


Hope on Fire

by jrenbar



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Confused Sherlock, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Johnlock - Freeform, Kidnapping, M/M, More tags to be added, OOC everyone slightly, PTSD, Parentlock, Torture, beginning releationship, tea and biscuits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 01:09:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 87,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3671841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jrenbar/pseuds/jrenbar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock arrives to help with a new case. A woman, estranged from her husband and son, is found dead in an isolated apartment. Sherlock quickly find that there is more to the woman than first meets the eye. Not to mention her husband and son have been kidnapped. Sherlock sees no leads or hope of recovery for the man and the son and turns the case over to his brother. When the boy shows up scared and crying at the police station less than an hour later Sherlock finds himself roped back into the case in a way nobody expects. </p>
<p>Alternate first meeting where Sherlock meets John's son before actually meeting John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost and found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not abandoning my other series I promise. This idea just popped into my head and refused to be ignored until I had the first chapter out. No worries though I am fairly sure I can keep up with two stories.

            Sherlock stepped out of the cab and walks quickly to the latest crime scene. He rolled his eyes at Donovan’s glare and continued inside the small apartment. He notices a picture on the way in, a man and a woman standing over a small child. The man has dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes, the woman; his wife presumably, has strawberry blonde colored hair and brown eyes. The boy they are holding seems to be around the age of three or four and has bright-white blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. Sherlock notices only the one picture however, placed right by the front door.

            As he continues through the apartment he sees that it lacks other personal touches as well. The furniture is sparse and there is absolutely no clutter. Either hasn’t been living here long or it is a temporary residence Sherlock concludes. Sherlock follows the sound of Lestrades voice and finds himself in the small bedroom. The body of a woman is lying over the bed.

           “There you are Sherlock.” Lestrade calls to him.

           Sherlock ignores his brother-in-law and walks directly to the body. The woman is the one from the picture clearly but her face seems much more drawn  and tired. She has bags under her eyes and she looks much thinner than the photograph. Strawberry blonde is not her natural hair color he notes up close. Her roots had started to show and she had neglected to fix it. Her natural hair color seemed to be a dark brown color, which when taking in her facial features and complexion seemed to fit better, probably of Spanish origin. There is massive bruising around her crushed windpipe indicating a man with extremely large hands.

           “We are trying to locate the husband now if you want to talk to him.” Lestrade said by his side.

           “Pointless, he didn’t do it.” Sherlock replies.

           “How do you know?”

           “Look at the photograph in the entryway, the man, clearly her husband, has much smaller hands. Whoever strangled her did it with one hand, one large hand. It would have taken a lot of muscle, her husband simply wouldn’t have had the strength to do this one handed.”

           “He still might know something.”

           “Doubtful, they had been separated for quite some time.” Sherlock continues to examine the body.

           “Explain Sherlock.”

           “Take a look around! Not a lot of personal touches, nothing indicating anyone lives here with her. There is a kid in the photo but nothing indicating the child lives here. So they separated a while ago. She was still hoping to make it work however.” Sherlock asserted. Lestrade grunted and turned away to listen to one of his officers briefly.

           “Well apparently he can’t be found anyway. His sister filed a missing persons report for him and her nephew about a month ago.” Lestrade said when he turned back.

           Sherlock thinks on this new information. Looking back over the body. The kill looked like a professional job in everything but the strangling. That bit was personal. Why was the husband and son missing? Clearly the woman still loved them. Sherlock looked around and spotted a laptop on a nearby table waiting to be catalogued. He promptly walked over to it and opened it up.

          “Sherlock its password encrypted you’ll have to wait until we get our experts onto it.” Lestrade warned. Sherlock just rolled his eyes and thought for a moment.

          “What are the husband and the son’s names?” He asked finally. He waits while Lestrade looks over the file that someone passed him.

          “John and Hamish.” Lestrade finally responds. Sherlock immediately types ‘JohnHamish’ into the computer and after a moment the screen unlocks. Sentiment Sherlock thinks. As soon as it does Sherlock’s hands fly across the keyboard uncovering a number of further encrypted files. It takes him a few minutes; it has been a while since he has needed to hack into private files. The last time he did it was Mycroft’s and what he had found had scarred him immensely. Honeymoon plans for Lestrade and his brother was not something he ever needed to know. Sherlock mentally shuddered. Why his brother had needed to encrypt those plans was beyond him but it had taught him to never touch Mycroft’s files without need again.

          He smiled in success as the files began to unlock. His eyes scanned the screen taking in the information. Ah, so the woman had been a hired killer as well. Interesting, that was unexpected, although it did explain the need for a professional hit to take her out. The files continued to unlock one by one. Most of them were inconsequential to the case at hand; of course Mycroft would value the information greatly, the woman had quite a kill list. A video popped up and Sherlock paused for a moment before pressing play.

         The video showed a blonde man, her husband, pacing a cell. The man had clearly been beaten, his face black and blue. He had a limp as well. The camera shifted suddenly and showed the boy sitting in a similar cell. The boy looked unharmed for the most part, just extremely scared. Things finally clicked into place. Sherlock turned to find Lestrade only to find him looking over his shoulder.

          “Is that her son?” he asks.

          “Yes, and the man that was shown before was her husband.”

          “Sherlock I don’t understand, explain.” Lestrade pleaded.

          “You know you really should get that printed on a shirt” Sherlock quipped before diving into the explanation. “This is obviously a hit, the strangling is a little unorthodox but it is a hit nonetheless. The strangling indicates a personal vendetta against her for some reason. Now it’s who she is that is more interesting. She is a hired killer herself. I should tell you right now that I know from the files on this computer that my brother is probably going to take this case from you by the end of the day. Now why the video of the husband and child? Well clearly they were being held hostage to make her do as she was ordered. My guess is she used to be a very active assassin and then retired and started a family. They probably had no idea of her past, unfortunate for them really. Anyway, it seems an old friend seems to have contacted her about two months ago. She refused at first but then they took her family in order to get their way. The son and the husband are still alive, but for how long I am not sure. Why keep around hostages when you have killed the person you are using them against. At this point I am not sure if much can be done for them. Whoever killed her, whether her own people or an opposing organization, won’t gain much by releasing the hostages. My guess is you will eventually find their bodies.” Sherlock finishes.

          “Damn.” Lestrade curses. His jaw clenches as he watches the little boy huddled on the cot crying.

          “Indeed.” Sherlock responds as he stands and moves to leave.

          “Wait, there are two more cases at the yard that you should look at as well. Same sort of deaths as this one, a quick kill to a person who has little to no family and can’t be traced very easily. Would you mind looking over the files to see if they connect?” Lestrade pleads. Sherlock just nods briefly before leaving. Lestrade was very lucky that he was bored elsewise Sherlock would have just ignored him and left.

          As Sherlock leaves the depressing apartment two men in suits pass him. Hm, bit early for Mycroft, Lestrade probably texted him. Sherlock rolled his eyes, Lestrade will do anything to avoid paperwork.

 

          Sherlock arrived at the Yard a short time later. He has barely walked into the building when a young officer hands him a few files. Apparently Lestrade sent word ahead. Good, he could just look them over briefly here and then leave. He motions for the officer to stay while he flips open the first file.

         It’s fairly straightforward, similar positioning as the woman he saw earlier. The photographs of the scene show another small-undecorated apartment. This victim had been shot through the temple. The police seemed to think that it had been a suicide but without the gun they can’t confirm that theory. They never will Sherlock thinks. This clearly was another hit. No way for the man to have shot himself at that angle, he would have had to be right-handed, and the man was clearly left-handed. Sherlock unceremoniously handed that case file back to the waiting officer and simply nodded an affirmative that it was connected before opening the second file.

        The door to the building opened and Sherlock turned to move out of the way. He looked over briefly expecting to see an officer coming in. Instead there seemed to be no one there. With a shrug Sherlock turns his glance back to the folder when he hears it. Someone is crying, well sobbing rather. Sherlock frowns and puts down the folder completely.

        Below him is a tiny figure with white blonde hair. The little boy is sobbing harder than ever and doesn’t appear to know what to do. The police officer next to Sherlock moves to soothe the boy. The boy just backs away and sobs harder.

       Hamish, Sherlock’s brain supplies. He shoves the file he is holding to the officer and squats down to the boys level.

      “Hamish, that is your name right?” Sherlock speaks quietly. The little boy focuses on him with his frightened eyes. Sherlock decides to use his deductive powers to try to put the boy at ease. “My name is Sherlock Holmes. I am a detective who works with the police officers. Your father is named John and you miss him terribly. Your favorite color is green and you love elephants. You haven’t slept in a day and you are very hungry but you are being extremely brave in spite of it all. ”

       At this the little boy stopped trembling and began to walk towards Sherlock. Before he knew it the little boy had wrapped his arms around his neck and was sobbing into his coat. Sherlock scooped the boy up slightly bewildered and looked at the officer who looked equally astonished. Sherlock patted the boys back unsure of exactly what he should do with the crying child now that he had gained his trust.

       Hungry, the boy was hungry. With a small sigh Sherlock turned and walked towards the vending machines that were in the side hallway leaving the dumbfounded police officer in his wake. He took out his phone and texted Lestrade on his way.

 

_Hamish found. Come to Scotland Yard now. –SH_

  He put his phone back it his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Gently patting the boys shoulder to get his attention.

       “Hamish would you like to pick out a snack?” he asks softly. He waits for a minute until the little boy picks his head up. He is still crying slightly but his exhaustion has seemed to set in. Sherlock waits while Hamish looks over the snacks.

       “How about some pretzels? Or would you rather have those chocolate biscuits?” Sherlock suggests. Hamish points to the biscuits after a moment and then looks at Sherlock. “Those are my favorite too.” Sherlock chuckles. Hamish smiles for the briefest of seconds at this.

        Chocolate biscuits and a bottle of water in hand Sherlock makes his way to Lestrade’s office. He rolls his eyes as every officer stops and stares at him on his way. He closes the door firmly behind him to discourage any more staring and then settles down in a chair with Hamish. He waits for Lestrade watching Hamish eat his biscuits slowly. Sherlock finds himself pitying the small boy. His mother is dead and his father is missing and in all likelihoods also dead. Hamish looks so small and fragile, nothing at all like the happy boy in the photograph that Sherlock had seen. Hamish offers him a biscuit, which Sherlock takes and chews on thoughtfully.

        Hamish is just finishing off his snack when Lestrade finally bursts in. At this Hamish immediately moves closer to Sherlock, his little hands with a death grip on Sherlock’s coat.

        “How Sherlock?” Lestrade stammers.

       “I was standing just inside the door and he walked in. I recognized him from the photograph and put two and two together. Hamish meet Detective Inspector Lestrade.” Sherlock explains. He looks at Hamish who looks a little less frightened at Lestrade but still has yet to release his grip on Sherlock.

        “Hello Hamish.” Lestrade says gently to the boy. At this Hamish just moves even closer to Sherlock. Lestrade looks back to Sherlock.  “Well child services are on their way. If you want to hand him off to Marian she will look after him until they arrive.” Lestrade motions for a woman to come in.

         Marian looks nice enough. She has three kids of her own at home and two dogs; She is a kind-hearted woman and loves to bake, Sherlock notes. She walks slowly towards Hamish.

        “Hi Hamish, My name is Marian. I am going to watch you for a while ok?” She reaches for the child slowly.

        Sherlock grimaces slightly has Hamish throws himself back against him, his little hands moving to grip tightly around Sherlock’s neck. Hamish desperately hides his face into Sherlock’s coat and begins to sob loudly again. The woman recoils backwards with an alarmed face. Lestrade likewise doesn’t seem to know what to do. The woman waits a few more minutes before deciding to flee.

       When the child service agent arrives Hamish continues to sob and clutch at Sherlock refusing to be moved. Lestrade looks helpless and confused. The child service agent looks frustrated and concerned. Sherlock can only look down at Hamish in curiosity. How can any one human being, especially one so small, produce this much tears? He wonders.

       Hamish is still crying hysterically when Mycroft finally shows up. Mycroft dismisses the agent with a few whispered words and then closes the door firmly.

      “Mycroft?” Lestrade questions from his desk.

      “It is clear that the boy will not be parted with Sherlock, for whatever reason, so therefore the solution is quite simple Gregory.”

      “You can’t be serious!” Lestrade says in horror. “How is that legal?”

     “You of all people should know how serious I am.” Mycroft says with a warm glint in his eye. “Since this case is officially turned over to me I have awarded myself temporary custody of the child.” Sherlock snorts at this. Poor child. 

     “But Myc really?”

     “I’m not certain it is a good idea either but the child does seem to be comfortable with him. Until he calms down and relaxes around others it seems we have no choice.”

     “You know I am right here.” Sherlock sneers at his brother.

      “Indeed you are. And I place under your care one Hamish Harry Watson until further notice.” Mycroft finishes with a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any mistakes!
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think of this idea. Love it? hate it? How would you like John to be found? (I won't kill him, I love him to much for that)


	2. Blankets, Baths and Biscuits.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With reluctance Sherlock takes on the task of caring for Hamish and with the help of some internet research the first night doesn't go to terrible.

            “You have to be joking Mycroft.” Sherlock finally growled at his brother. What was he supposed to do with a kid?

            “I wish that I was brother mine.”

            “What about his aunt? It says in the files that a Harriet Watson filed the missing persons report.” Lestrade offers.

            “No that is not an option I am afraid.” Mycroft shakes his head. “It seems that Harriet Watson was a recovering alcoholic. When her brother disappeared she fell back into her old habits. So that leads us back to you.” Mycroft smiles at Sherlock’s discomfort.

            “Grandparents?” Sherlock inquires in one last attempt to save himself and Hamish the trouble that was sure to come if he had to take care of him. Mycroft just shook his head. “Fine. You better have every last one of your men looking for his father then. If you are going to subject the child to me you at least owe him that.”

            “I assure you that we are doing everything we can.” Mycroft replies.

            Sherlock looks down at the boy in his arms. Hamish seems to have calmed down enough to listen to what is being said. Sherlock pats his back trying to soothe the child even more.

            “Now you can take him by his Aunts house to pick up some things, apparently her brother and nephew were living with her before they disappeared. She no doubt will want to know he has been found.” Mycroft continues.

            “No.” Sherlock replies in a huff.

            Mycroft and Greg both stare at him in mild astonishment. Hamish peaks at him from his chest tears still glistening in his tired eyes.

            “What do you mean no?” Mycroft says dangerously.

            “I mean no Mycroft. Not today. He has just been returned to civilization. He is tired, scared and confused. I think he has probably had quite enough to deal with. We will go by his aunts on another day but not today. Although you should probably go by her house and explain the situation so we don’t shock her whenever we do show up.” Sherlock says adamantly looking back down at Hamish. It seems that Hamish as finally run out of tears and looks as if he is ready to fall over in exhaustion at any moment. Sherlock looks up at his brother once more.

           “Have one of your minions get some clothes,” Sherlock pauses looking at Hamish once more. “Probably get a kids blanket as well. Make sure it’s green. Get him a stuffed elephant too. Children like to hug animals right?” Sherlock questioned looking back at Lestrade and his brother. Mycroft was staring at him in amusement and Greg looked as if he might have a heart attack at any moment.

           “Green brother mine?” Mycroft questions.

           “It’s his favorite color.” Sherlock snaps.

           “How do you..??” Greg finally utters.

           “No wonder you need me to solve most of your cases Lestrade! Could it have escaped your notice that he is wearing green now? He was also wearing green in the photograph that was at the apartment. Clearly he likes the color.” Sherlock pauses taking in Greg’s excellent impression of a fish, his mouth hanging open wide enough to catch a good number of flies. “As for the elephant if you look at the photograph again you will notice a stuffed toy in the boys arms, an elephant clearly. Not only that but there is a picture of a cartoon elephant on the boys shirt. A horrible likeness really, not at all accurate to the real thing.” Sherlock finishes. He looks back down at Hamish and is startled to find the boy sitting up and staring at him. Hamish smiles tiredly at him before laying his head back down on Sherlock’s chest.

           “He smiled at me! What does that mean?” Sherlock asks still staring at Hamish. When people smiled at him before it was usually because they were making fun of him. When Mycroft smiled at him it usually meant Mycroft was plotting something. Sherlock searched the little boys face; he didn’t appear to be plotting anything. Sherlock jumped as Lestrade started laughing. He looks up at the laughing inspector.

           “He likes you Sherlock.” Lestrade explains still laughing. Sherlock looks back down at the boy who appears to be falling asleep.

           “Why?” he questions looking up. Lestrade just shrugs and continues to laugh. Sherlock frowns at him.

           Sighing Sherlock tightens his hold on the boy and stands up. He nods at his brother once and leaves the office, Lestrade still laughing. He makes his way back out to the street ignoring the stares from the officers yet again. When he finally settles into the cab the little boy has fallen into a deep asleep, his body relaxed for the first time since he had first come into Sherlock’s arms. Sherlock looks at his watch, 3:15 should he wake him up? Surely 3:15 isn’t a normal bedtime for 3 year olds. Sherlock decided against it, Hamish clearly needed the sleep.

           They finally arrived at 221B and Sherlock carefully opened the door trying not to jostle Hamish too much. He stepped in closing the door softly.

          “Sherlock your home!” Mrs. Hudson calls from her door. “Who is this dear?” She asks as she spots Hamish in his arms.

          “Hamish.” Sherlock replies moving towards the stairs.

          “Why do you have a child Sherlock?” Mrs. Hudson questions, eying him suspiciously.

          “Mycroft.” Sherlock says by way of reply. She nods and turns to go back into her apartment. Mrs. Hudson is well acquainted with his brother and knows not to question further. Sherlock pauses at the stairs and looks over at her. “Mrs. Hudson, what do children eat?”

          “Oh Sherlock.” Mrs. Hudson smiles briefly. “I’ll bring some dinner up in a bit.”

          “Thank you.” Sherlock responds before making his way up the stairs.

          “Just this once dear, I’m your landlady not your housekeeper.” She calls to him before disappearing behind her door. Sherlock rolls his eyes at her statement knowing full well the old woman would more than likely bring up food everyday without being asked.

           He stepped into his own flat and walked over to the sofa. Carefully he placed Hamish down to sleep, gently prying the little hands from his coat. Leaving the sleeping child briefly he went to his room to see about a blanket. Frowning he dismissed his own comforter which was much too big to be practical. He searched his room for a smaller alternative. He left his room in a huff after finding nothing that might work besides a towel of questionable cleanliness. Sherlock walked back and stared at the little boy who was curled up on his sofa. He shrugged off his coat and placed it over the little boy. Hopefully Mycroft’s minions would arrive soon.

           He grabbed his laptop before sitting down carefully next to Hamish. Time to do some much needed research. Sherlock absorbed himself in his computer occasionally glancing down at Hamish to make sure he was all right. Sherlock barely acknowledged Mycroft’s assistant when she came in and placed a few bags on the floor and then left.

           When the little boy started squirming and sniffling Sherlock thought he might be waking up. Sherlock set his laptop down and looked down at the little boy. Hamish’s eyes were still closed but his movement had increased and he had begun to cry and call out.

           Nightmare then Sherlock thought. He carefully pulled the little boy into his lap and patted his back again.

          “Hamish, wake up. It’s just a dream Hamish. Hamish can you hear me?” Sherlock says to the little boy. It seems to work because the little boy stops struggling and screaming. Hamish continued to cry into his shirt, his hands clutching at the fabric. Sherlock just sits and tries to comfort the boy who slowly begins to calm down.

          “Yoo-hoo Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson comes in carrying a tray of food. Hamish stiffens at her voice and turns to look at her.

          “Hamish this is Mrs. Hudson. She lives downstairs. She brought you some food to eat.” Sherlock tried encouraged the boy. Mrs. Hudson smiled waiting for Hamish to give her some sign. “She makes the best cinnamon biscuits that you have ever tasted.” He added.

          “Oh Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson blushes.

          “The worst she can do to you is over feed or talk you to death Hamish, other than that no need to worry.”

          “Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson gasps giving him a frown. The little boy looked at him and smiled again.

          “Shall we see what she brought to eat?” Sherlock asks him. The little boy thinks for a moment before nodding. Mrs. Hudson encouraged by this brings the try forward and sets it on the table.

          “I brought some cheese sandwiches and some tomato soup. Tomato soup always makes me feel better.” She adds with a wink.

         “No biscuits Mrs. Hudson?” Sherlock asks hopefully.

         “Maybe later if you behave Sherlock.” She tuts. “Make sure he eats Hamish.” She says to the little boy before turning to leave. Sherlock rolls his eyes before placing Hamish next to him on the sofa. He brings the table closer and gestures for Hamish to eat.

         The little boy stares at the food for a moment before taking a sandwich and biting into it. Sherlock turns to grab his computer again but stops when he feels a small hand patting his leg. He turns to look at Hamish who is handing him one of the other sandwiches from the plate. Sherlock looks at it debating on the best way of saying no.

         Hamish frowns at him and turns to look at the door that Mrs. Hudson just left through. He looks back at Sherlock with a look that Sherlock takes to mean ‘eat this or I will cry and make her come back up here’. Now it’s Sherlock’s turn to frown at the little boy. Clearly he had underestimated the boy’s intelligence. After another minute Sherlock takes the offered sandwich and sniffs it. He takes a bite of it, not really tasting the cheesy mess. Hamish smiles at this happily and continues to eat his own sandwich. Sherlock watches in fascination as the little boy reaches out and dips his sandwich into the soup on the tray before taking another bite. Curious Sherlock does the same and finds that the plain sandwich is much improved by the taste.

        After Sherlock finishes his sandwich he sits and watches Hamish’s slow progress. The little boy has moved to the edge of the sofa and has begun to eat the cooled soup, every now and again taking another bite of his sandwich. Children are extremely messy eaters, Sherlock decides watching as more soup sloshes down Hamish’s shirt.

        Sherlock stands and grabs the bags that Mycroft’s assistant left and brings them to the sofa.

        “Lets see what my brother a sent for you shall we?” He says to Hamish who has paused in his meal to watch him. Sherlock pulls out a few changes of clothes for the child; pants, shirts, trousers, socks and small little trainers. He sets them aside and reaches into the bag again pulling out pajamas and a soft green blanket. There is also a coat and scarf for the little boy as well. At the very bottom there was a plush stuffed elephant. Sherlock pulled it out and showed it to Hamish.

        Hamish smiled at him again and reached for it. Sherlock handed the toy to him watching as the little boy pulled it to his chest and rubbed his face into it, his meal forgotten.

        “Are you still hungry?’ Sherlock questions. Hamish shakes his head and continues to snuggle with the toy. Sherlock takes the tray into the kitchen for Mrs. Hudson to claim later. He looks at the clock, 6:15. According to the websites he looked at earlier now is a good time to get the little boy ready for bed. He walks back to Hamish who has pulled the blanket towards him petting the softness in awe.

        “Why don’t we give you a bath and then maybe Mrs. Hudson will bring us some biscuits?” He asks the little boy. Hamish looks up at him considering this for a moment. He nods slowly and puts his stuffed toy on the sofa carefully. Sherlock grabs a spare set of clothes from the couch and holds out his hand. Hamish grabs it following him to the bathroom.

 

         After 20 minutes of trying to get the boy clean Sherlock has had enough. The Internet article had not said that it would be this difficult. Clearly the article hadn’t factored in the hyper activeness of little boys. The bathroom floor ended up with at least a gallon or two of water. Sherlock himself had wet hair and water all down the front of his shirt and trousers. When finally Hamish seemed clean enough Sherlock quickly dried the boy off and helped him into his pajamas.

          He leaves Hamish cleaned, dressed and relatively happy on the sofa while he goes to change his own clothes. When he returns he finds Mrs. Hudson sitting on the sofa beside a smiling Hamish. She’s blabbering away at the little boy, the tray of biscuits and milk forgotten on the table. Sherlock reaches down and grabs one before Mrs. Hudson has a chance to blink.

             “Sherlock.” She warns.

             “I ate a sandwich earlier. Hamish can attest to it.” Sherlock replies with a sniff as he moves to sit on the other side of the little boy.

            “Is he telling the truth dear?” Mrs. Hudson asks of the little boy. Hamish nods and smiles up at the detective. “Well alright then.” She acquiesces before handing a biscuit to Hamish.

            “Don’t you have somewhere to be Mrs. Hudson?” Sherlock inquires with a sneer.

            “Now Sherlock mind your manners.” She says with a smile as she gets up to leave. “Don’t stay up too late boys.”

            Hamish turns to him when she leaves still munching on his snack. Sherlock looks around the flat for something to entertain the child with. He turns on the telly and flips the channels until he finds a nature channel that is talking about animals in Africa. He looks down at Hamish who has turned his attention to the screen still quietly munching on his biscuit. Sherlock leans back into the sofa and tunes out the program retreating to his mind. He makes sure not to zone out entirely so that he can keep an eye on the little boy.

            Thirty minutes later he looks down to find that the little boy has curled against him clutching the elephant in his arms. Hamish appears to be fast asleep, his little hand curled around a forgotten cookie. Sherlock tugs the cinnamon biscuit out of his hand and places it on the plate then leans over and grabs the folded up blanket and gently tucks it around the little boy.

            Sherlock leans back and closes his eyes. Looking after this little boy was going to be tedious he decided.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there is the other half of what has been brewing in my brain for a while now. The next chapter is going to be from Greg and Mycroft's view fair warning. Also don't worry John will be coming into the picture in a few more chapters. 
> 
> Any troubles with Hamish you want to see Sherlock try to handle? Let me know :) 
> 
>  
> 
> To any of you who read my other fic, Vices and Virtues, don't be alarmed. Another chapter should go up sometime today or tomorrow. :)


	3. Panic at 221B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock continues to care for Hamish and makes a few mistakes along the way. Or why Sherlock thinks kids should come with an instruction manual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said that this would be mostly Greg and Mycroft's point of view but I changed my mind ok?

            Sherlock awoke to someone poking his cheek. He groaned and the poking stopped. Slowly he opened his eyes and realized that he must have fallen asleep on the sofa. Looking down he found Hamish sitting next to him. The little boy coughed a little and then smiled up at him.

            “Well you succeeded in waking me up.  Do you need something?” He asked the little boy.

            “Hungry.” Hamish said in a small voice. Sherlock was startled at hearing the boy speak for the first time. He nodded and stood up stretching the stiffness out of his back.

            “Well let me see what I can find.” He said with a smile to the little boy before going to check the kitchen. He rummaged in the cupboards looking for something edible. When that was fruitless he turned to the fridge and only found milk that had gone out a few days ago. He returned to the living room and looked at Hamish who had begun to nibble on a few of the biscuits that had been left from the night before. “Right. Well. We will just go out and get food.”

            Sherlock got dressed and then got Hamish ready. He bundled the little boy in his coat and scarf before picking him up and heading downstairs. He put Hamish down for a moment and waltzed over to Mrs. Hudson’s door. Perhaps he could get the lady to feed Hamish and then they wouldn’t have to go out. He grumbled finding a note taped to her door, Mrs. Hudson had left to visit her sister and wouldn’t be back until the day after tomorrow. Sighing he walked back to Hamish.

            He held his hand out to Hamish, who grabbed it with enthusiasm, before leaving the silent flat. Sherlock slowed his pace so the little boy could keep up. He considered picking Hamish up and walking quickly there. It would be much more efficient than this lollygagging. Looking down he saw how Hamish was enjoying the bit of exercise and decided against it. Luckily there was a store a block away so they didn’t have far to go. 

            Once inside he picked up a small handheld basket and started down the first isle. He realized suddenly he hadn’t the faintest idea what kids ate. He stopped and looked down at Hamish.

            “What do you want?” he asked with a frown. The little boy lit up and began to lead him around the store. Hamish pulled things and handed them to Sherlock who in turn looked them over taking note of what the boy liked and then placed them in the basket he was carrying. He catalogued the items: apple juice, peanut butter, cheese flavored crisps, some pastries, some sort of fruit snack, some biscuits, ice cream and a chocolate bar. Sherlock added 2% milk to the basket and after reading the label, a bottle of chocolate milk. Sherlock hadn’t known that there was such a thing and was eager to try it, for an experiment of course.

            “That it?” He asked the little boy who had stopped at the front of the store. Hamish nodded promptly and smiled up at him. Sherlock headed to a chip and pin machine and chuckled as Hamish helped to bag the items he scanned.

            They left the shop, Sherlock carrying the bags in one hand and holding Hamish’s hand in the other. After walking at an achingly slow pace they finally made it back to 221B. Sherlock scooped the boy up before hurrying up the stairs.

            He set Hamish down and began to place the food items on the coffee table. Hamish immediately divested himself of his coat, dropping it on the floor, and reached for one of the pastries. Sherlock picked up the coat and hung it up then quickly hung up his own. He took the ice cream and milk to the kitchen and poured two glasses of chocolate milk before putting the cold items away. He made his way back to the sofa carrying the two glasses.

            Hamish had finished eating a pastry and had opened the bag of crisps and a fruit snack. He smiled when Sherlock placed the milk in front of him grabbing it and taking a big gulp. Sherlock sighed as Hamish wiped his mouth with his sleeve. At this rate all of the new clothes that Mycroft’s assistant had dropped off would be dirty by tomorrow. Then he would have to figure out laundry. The flat had a washer and dryer not that he had ever used them. He always just sent all of his clothes out to be cleaned. He waved the thought away thinking he would deal with it when the time came. Perhaps he would just buy new clothes and throw the dirty ones away.

            Sherlock took his first gulp of the chocolate milk and sighed in satisfaction. This was undoubtedly the best drink he had ever had. Why buy regular milk at all? How had he never had this before?? He thought. He then downed the rest of the glass in one swallow and smiled at Hamish who looked impressed at this.

Sherlock turned on the tele for Hamish before sitting back and considering what to do with the boy. The tele was really the only thing he had to entertain the kid. He had some experiments that he wanted to do but the little boy would undoubtedly get in the way and skew the results. He blindly grabbed at the food on the table as he thought and came away with a package of the fruit snacks. He opened it and sniffed at the contents curiously. Were they made from actual fruit? He plucked one out of the package and examined it. It was small and round and gave the impression of trying to look like a bunch of grapes. He popped it into his mouth and was surprised to find it was filled with a sort of sugary goo. Sherlock frowned at the packaging; this didn’t taste like fruit at all. What idiot named this? It was tasty, extremely tasty, Sherlock thought popping another into his mouth, but not at all like fruit.

            He looked over to Hamish who seemed to be finished eating and was now squirming around. Sherlock looked around his flat again trying to think of something to do with the boy. Sherlock had a lot of science equipment and a lot of books. There really wasn’t much in his flat that a child would be interested in.

            “Hamish, would you like to build a tower out of my books?” He finally asked suggesting the only thing he could think of. Hamish perked up and nodded excitedly.

            He sat on the floor with Hamish handing him book after book. The little boy carefully placed each one until he had a tower as tall as himself. Suddenly Hamish knocked it over in a rush and giggled as the books scattered about. After a moment of shock Sherlock laughed with him. He sat back and watched as Hamish built tower after tower. Sherlock reached for his laptop to check his website while the little boy played builder and destroyer.

            The game kept Hamish occupied and allowed Sherlock to look over some things for an experiment he was planning. Sherlock looked up every now and again to make sure the boy was still having fun.

            He wasn’t sure how long it had been but after a while he noticed Hamish standing in front of him. The little boy looked distressed and upset for some reason that Sherlock couldn’t understand. He was just about to ask when Hamish lurched forward vomiting down his shirt.

            Sherlock quickly stood up and raced the boy to the bathroom where Hamish was sick again, this time into the toilet luckily. He hovered around the boy patting his back and trying to soothe him. When Hamish seemed like he wouldn’t be sick again Sherlock told him to stay where he was for a moment. He went to his bedroom and pulled his ruined shirt off and pulled on a fresh one. He then scurried to the kitchen dropping his soiled shirt into the rubbish bin. He grabbed a wet flannel and his mobile before heading back to the bathroom. He sat down and wiped Hamish’s tear streaked face carefully. He continued to try to comfort the boy as he scrolled through his contacts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

            Across town Greg and Mycroft had just finished having lunch at their favorite café and were lingering at their table for as long as they could before heading back to work.

            “So what do you have on your agenda this afternoon? Preventing war or starting it?” Greg teased his husband.

            “No I am visiting Harriet Watson to bring her up to date on nephew’s reappearance.” Mycroft said with a small smile.

            “Well I don’t envy you there. Do try to be nice though Myc.” Greg smiled.

            “I am always nice. I should-” A mobile went off at that moment cutting whatever Mycroft was going to say next. Greg smirked and pulled out his mobile out of his pocket.

            “Lestrade” he answered.

            _“He’s throwing up what do I do??”_

“Sherlock?”

            _“Hamish is sick Lestrade! He was fine an hour ago and now he’s sick! Do you think he’s been poisoned? What do I do?”_

“Calm down! I’ll be right over.” Greg replied quickly before ending the call. Mycroft gave him a questioning look. “Sherlock’s panicking, apparently Hamish is ill.”

            “Well then I suppose it is time to leave.” Mycroft said with a sigh. Greg took his hand as they left the café.

            “Try not to be too late tonight, I’m making dinner.” Greg said squeezing Mycroft’s hand. Mycroft smiled and nodded before turning and walking away. Greg watched him walk away for a few minutes before hailing a cab and heading to Baker Street.

            He arrived in no time at all and raced up the stairs. He found Sherlock holding Hamish and pacing around the flat.

            “Sherlock?” Greg asked from the doorway.

            “Oh Good. You know kids, what do I do?” Greg suppressed a smile at the evident worry in Sherlock’s voice. Sherlock had never showed emotion so easily before.

            “Well does he have a fever?”

            “No. He said his stomach hurt but it feels a little better now.” He replied looking down at Hamish who sneezed into Sherlock’s shoulder.

            “Ok well what has he eaten today?” Greg asked. Sherlock thought for a moment before responding.

            “A glass of chocolate milk, three pastries, fruit snacks, crisps and half of a chocolate bar.” He recited from memory.

            “Sherlock! No wonder he got sick!” Greg shook his head.

            “I don’t understand?” Sherlock looked at him confused.

            “You can’t just feed him junk food Sherlock. He ate too much crap food, of course he got a stomachache!”

            “I don’t understand! He picked the food! I took him to the store and asked him what he wanted to eat!” Sherlock exclaimed in distress looking down at Hamish who coughed a little in his arms. “What was I supposed to do?”

            “Sherlock of course he picked foods that weren’t good for him. That’s what kids do. Just as a rule though candy, pastries, biscuits and crisps are not a proper meal.” Greg sighed shaking his head. “I’ll head to the store and pick up a bit of actual food alright? He will be fine I promise.”

            Greg turned to leave after a nod from Sherlock. He heard mumbling from behind him. He caught the words ‘kids’ and ‘instruction manual’ as he made his way downstairs.

 

 

 

            After Lestrades explanation Sherlock relaxed a bit. It still didn’t make sense to him. Sherlock ate crap food all the time and never got sick. Lestrade was the one who raised kids before so he decided to trust his knowledge even though it went against the grain to do so. 

            Hamish admittedly was looking better. He hadn’t gotten sick again so that indicated Lestrade might be right. Sherlock finally sat with Hamish on the couch listening to the boy drift of to sleep. Hamish coughed or sniffled every once in a while but other than that seemed to sleep peacefully.

            Lestrade came back after a short while carrying a few bags full of what he called ‘appropriate food’. He pulled out each item and explained quietly how to prepare it or make it into a meal for the little boy before taking it all into the kitchen and putting it away. Sherlock nodded to Lestrade as he left not wanting to speak and wake the sleeping boy. He drifted into his mind palace and started reorganizing the ‘child care’ room to include the recent guidelines that Lestrade had given him about food.

            He was roused out of his mind about thirty minutes later when Hamish started to move in his arms.

            “Have a good nap?” He asked the little boy who coughed slightly. Hamish nodded and looked up at him. “Is there something you like to do?” He asked, again unsure as to how he should entertain the child.

            “Color.” Hamish said after thinking for a while.

            Of course! Kids liked to draw pictures!! He should have thought of that earlier. He put Hamish down on the sofa and got up to find paper. He gave the child a few sheets as well as a pen, the only instrument he could find, before moving to pick up the books Hamish had been playing with earlier.

            Hamish busied himself with drawing pictures for most of the afternoon. Sherlock was able to do a fair amount of research as well as a few minor experiments while the boy occupied himself. He was sitting in his chair typing away furiously when he felt a tug on his arm.

            “Hungry.” Hamish’s little voice informed him. Sherlock nodded and swiftly set his laptop aside before going to the kitchen. He looked in the cupboard and decided on a can of soup. It was the item with the easiest instructions. Sherlock pulled out a bowl and dumped the pre-prepared soup into it. He pulled out a mug full of eyeballs from the microwave and replaced it with the soup.

            “What would you like to-” He asked turning to look at the little boy who had sat himself at the kitchen table stopping mid-question as he took in the Hamish’s appearance. Don’t give kids pens, he made a mental note taking in the marks on the boys arms and face. He grabbed a flannel and wet it with warm water before moving over to scrub the marks off. Luckily it didn’t take much effort even with Hamish squirming to get away from him, sniffling every once in a while.

            When most of the marks had been rubbed away Sherlock set the flannel down and put the soup in front of the boy with a glass of water.

            “It’s hot.” He warned as he walked back into the living area. He went to the coffee table and confiscated the pen. He would have to find out what kids were supposed to use. Maybe a website would know. He looked over some of the pictures Hamish had drawn; a few people, one of a bird and one of some other indeterminate four-legged creature. He heard a sneeze followed by some sniffling coming from the kitchen.

            When Hamish finished he came back to the sofa and crawled to sit next to Sherlock. He pointed to the table next to Sherlock clearly asking for something. Sherlock scanned the table and picked up the remote. The child took it and pressed the buttons until he found the right one. Sherlock watched him play with the buttons, changing the channel sporadically until he found one he liked. Hamish coughed a few more times before leaning back into the sofa. The program was some sort of cartoon about a group of friends and their dog who went around and solved mysteries. Although the term ‘mysteries’ was being used very loosely Sherlock thought. Hamish seemed to like it though, watching in rapt attention sniffling now and again. After a few episodes of the insipid show Sherlock took the remote and turned it off.

            “Bedtime.” He said looking at Hamish. Hamish coughed before looking at him with watery eyes. He looked miserable Sherlock thought as he watched the boy breathe out of his mouth. He felt the boy’s forehead, which didn’t seem to be that warm. Hamish sneezed causing quite a bit of mucous to eject from his nose.

            That’s not supposed to happen if you are well, Sherlock thought standing up to grab a tissue. Greg said he wasn’t sick but this is definitely not well. Sherlock frowned and pulled out his mobile.

            _“What do you need now Sherlock?”_ Greg answered.

            “You said he wasn’t sick! You were wrong! I really shouldn’t be surprised!” He sneered into the phone

            _“Hamish is fine Sherlock! I assure you that his stomach will feel better.”_

            “He is not fine! He coughs every few minutes and sneezes every five. His eyes are watering and his nose is leaking! It is LEAKING! That is NOT fine! Now what is this? Should I take him to the hospital? Is it an allergy attack? I feed him a proper dinner like you said to! Could he have been allergic to something?” Sherlock questioned.

            _“Slow down Sherlock! It’s just a cold. Make him drink some juice and lots of water. Take him into the bathroom and turn the shower on. The steam might help with the congestion. The shops are closed so you’ll have to wait to get cold medicine until tomorrow I’m afraid.”_

            “A cold? Are you sure it wasn’t an allergic reaction?”

            _“Yes Sherlock! Now calm down and do what I said. He will be fine, a little uncomfortable but fine!”_

            “If you are wrong about this I will refuse to help you with any cases for a month.” Sherlock grumbles before disconnecting the call. He picks Hamish up grabbing his pajamas along the way. After getting a glass of apple juice like Lestrade said he carried Hamish into the bathroom.

            He changes the boy into his pajamas and coaxes him to drink some of the juice before turning on the shower and closing the door so the steam would collect. He held Hamish and watched as his breathing became better and he fell asleep. Sherlock silently thanked Lestrade for his advice, not that he would ever say it out loud of course. His mobile vibrated in his pocket once indicating a text. He pulled it out and read.

 

**Harriet Watson informed. Visit tomorrow. 52 Shepard St. Hope all is well. –MH**

Sherlock rolled his eyes before replying.

 

You should have supplied me with a manual on how to do this. You always did enjoy withholding information. –SH

 

**If I had you would have just ignored it brother mine. –MH**

Piss off and go stuff your face with the cake Lestrade undoubtedly made you! – SH

 

            He put his mobile down ignoring the next text. Leaning his head back against the wall he tried to make himself comfortable without jostling the sleeping boy. He let his mind drift through his mind palace, reorganizing and reviewing things as he went and hoping that tomorrow would prove to be less trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed that! It was definitely fun to write. Poor panicked Sherlock! So concerned with taking care of a human being that some of his common sense just gets thrown out of the window. 
> 
> Next chapter we meet Harriet!  
> got any secret wishes??? Let me know!


	4. Tears and Sniffles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock takes Hamish over to Harriet's. Sherlock seems to remember that there is a case to be solved.

 

            It had been a long night full of snot and sneezing, mostly on Sherlock, and he desperately wanted coffee and a shower. After sitting in the bathroom with Hamish for a while Sherlock had placed the boy on his bed to sleep. He knew the bed was mostly clean if a bit dusty seeing as he couldn’t actually remember the last time he had slept in the bed. Unfortunately Hamish’s cold meant the little boy woke several times out of discomfort and ended up wanting to be held again.

            At around 7 Hamish woke up without any indication of wanting to go back to sleep so Sherlock ushered the boy into the kitchen to feed him breakfast. After helping the boy get settled in a chair Sherlock went to the cabinet to find the breakfast appropriate food that Lestrade had provided. On the counter he noticed a box of child’s cold medicine with a note.

           

            **Try not to let him die brother mine. –MH**

Sherlock rolled his eyes and read the directions: One teaspoon every 6 hours on a full stomach. Pretty straightforward he thought. He set the box down and pulled out a cereal box that had a cartoon rabbit on the front. Sherlock poured a bowl for Hamish and himself and then added the milk. He turned and placed the bowls on the table belatedly realizing that Hamish had disappeared.

            “Hamish?” Sherlock called uncertain. He heard the little pit-pat of running and soon Hamish scampered into the kitchen once again. Hamish clambered back onto the chair and looked at Sherlock’s questioning gaze.

            “Potty.” The little boy said reaching for his bowl of cereal and shoving a spoonful of the food into his mouth. Sherlock watched him eat for a few minutes before belatedly asking.

            “Did you wash your hands?” Not that Sherlock really cared unless evidence or an experiment could be compromised. Various studies showed that over obsession with killing ‘germs’ caused weakened immune systems in children resulting in more allergies and stronger reactions to basic sicknesses. Germs had been around since the dawn of time, man must come in contact with them to adapt and overcome them. However this was not his kid and it seemed the more socially acceptable idea to wash ones hands.

            Hamish looked at him and nodded. He paused in his meal looking at Sherlock’s bowl of cereal and then back up to Sherlock. Sighing Sherlock sat and took a bite of the cereal. He had always hated cereal. His mother would give it to him every morning even though Sherlock pointedly said every day that it tasted of cardboard. The cereal in front of him however most definitely did not taste like cardboard. His eyes widened and he grabbed the box to look it over again. 13g of sugar? Well no wonder it didn’t taste like cardboard. Why was this more acceptable than feeding a kid pastries? Well if Hamish got sick from this it would be Lestrade’s fault not his.

            After both bowls of cereal were eaten and Hamish had clumsily slurped his remaining milk down, most of which ended up on his shirt, Sherlock pulled out another spoon and got the cold medicine. Hamish eyed the spoonful warily.

            “Hamish this medicine is going to make your cold get better.” Sherlock told the boy holding the spoonful of medicine in front of the boy. Hamish shook his head and crossed his arms. Sherlock repressed a chuckle at the little boy’s stubbornness. “Yes it is going to taste awful I expect but you still have to take it. You can have one biscuit after if you do.” Sherlock bribed. Hamish looked at the spoon considering the offer and then with a huff he took the spoon and gulped the medicine down making a face. Sherlock took the spoon back and retrieved a chocolate biscuit as promised.

            Sherlock made some coffee and then walked to the sofa, Hamish following in his wake. The little boy turned the tele on and munched on his treat. After lazily drinking his coffee and watching Hamish’s reaction to the absurd children’s show for a while Sherlock stood drawing the boy’s attention.

            “Hamish, I am going to go take a shower. I want you to stay right here on this sofa ok? Do not move and if you need me shout down the hall.” Sherlock looked at the boy who just nodded.

“Do you remember my name?” Hamish scrunched his face and thought carefully.

            “Sir….Sirlock?” the little boy said tentatively. Sherlock nodded satisfied before briskly walking to his room to retrieve his clothes. He went as fast as he could reluctant to leave Hamish unsupervised for too long.

He needn’t have worried; Hamish was in the exact place on the sofa when he returned. He looked at the clock, 9:00am, well now was a good a time as any to visit Harriet Watson.

 

 

 

            After the battle to get Hamish cleaned, dressed and buttoned into his coat Sherlock had finally gotten them into a cab and on their way to see Harriet Watson. Hamish sat quietly beside him sniffling once in a while. Sherlock wasn’t entirely sure if the boy knew where they were going or how the little boy was going to react. The potential for more tears and sniffling was rather high, he thought.

Hamish sneezed violently beside him and brought his arm up to his face, presumably to wipe it once again on his sleeve. Sherlock dug in his pocket and quickly pulled out a tissue. He stilled the boy’s arm and put the tissue in front of his face. Hamish took it and wiped his face looking up at Sherlock with a frown on his face.

The ride wasn’t terribly long but Hamish had begun to squirm in his seat anxiously by the time they got there. When the cab finally stopped Sherlock pulled out his wallet to pay as Hamish peered out of the window.

Before he could stop him Hamish had opened the door and scrambled out of the car. Sherlock threw money at the cabbie and ran after him. He followed the boy watching as he ran to the building and reaching up on his tiptoes rang the bell. Clearly he knew where he was.

               “Hamish you can’t do--” Sherlock started before being cut off by the door opening.

               “Yes?” A small blonde woman was barely able to get out before Hamish pushed past her.

               “Daddy!!!!! Daddy!!!!” Hamish called running around the flat from room to room.

               “Oh dear!” the woman said hurrying after him. Sherlock followed quickly behind her.

               “DADDY!!!!” Hamish’s cries were getting more frantic now. They found him in a bedroom trembling and looking lost.

               “Hamish,” Sherlock said to him carefully “Hamish daddy isn’t here.”

               “Daddy! I want Daddy!” The little boy’s face crumpled as tears streamed down his face.

              “I know.” Sherlock whispered. Hamish stood there sobbing for a few minutes before walking slowly towards Sherlock. He reached up still crying heavily and Sherlock scooped him up. He tried to comfort the boy patting his back and rocking him gently. After a few moments Hamish’s sobs had quieted down, however he was still crying and sniffling into Sherlock’s shoulder.

Sherlock turned his attention to the woman beside him when he sensed that the boy had started to calm a little. She was small in height and stature. She had short-cropped blonde hair and light blue eyes which were now full of tears as she looked at Hamish.

              “Harriet Watson I assume?” Sherlock asked quietly. She nodded and gestured him to follow her.

              “Call me Harry.” She said as they made there way into the living area. “You are?” she asked.

              “Sherlock Holmes.” At this her eyes went wide as they both sat across from each other.

              “Another one.” She stated.

              “I am not nearly as insufferable as my brother I assure you.” He replied at which she snorted.

              “He said that Hamish was being cared for but he didn’t say it was by his brother.” She eyed him warily. “How did that come about?”

              “Did he not tell you how Hamish was found?” Sherlock asked confused. She shook her head sadly.

              “No he just told me that Hamish had been found and John had yet to be located.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, trust Mycroft to be cryptic.

              “Well Hamish either wandered into or was dropped by New Scotland Yard. I happened to be there when he arrived. He was rather distressed and wouldn’t let an officer near him so I talked to him and he apparently took a liking to me.” He explained.

              “Are you a child services agent?” Harry questioned.

              “No. He refused to go with the agent. My brother arrived, saw that Hamish trusted me and put him under my care.” Sherlock explained trying to keep the bitterness out of his tone.

              “How can? What the- is that even legal?” She stuttered in shock.

              “Harriet- er- Harry lets just say my brother is the British government and can bend most things to his will without lifting a finger. Not to mention his husband is a detective inspector with the Yard who has considerable sway.” He explained smiling a little at the poor woman’s shell-shocked expression.

              “Right.” She said quietly. “I’m going to make some tea.” She announced before leaving the room clearly in shock.

Sherlock took her absence as an opportunity to coax Hamish into relaxing a bit.

              “Hamish? I know you are sad and you want your Daddy but don’t you want to say hello to your Aunt? I am sure she missed you.” Hamish sat up and looked at him.

            “Where’s Daddy?” he asked his lip trembling slightly. While Sherlock thought for a moment on how to explain Harry came back carrying a tray with freshly made tea.

           “Well Daddy is missing, he uh” He paused trying to find the words.

           “He got lost Hamish,” Harry piped up “He was looking for you and he got lost.”  Hamish looked at him for validation.

           “Yes, yes he got lost.” Sherlock confirmed thankful that Harry had the ability to come up with something.

           “Remember that tale Daddy used to tell you before bed? About the knight who went on a quest but lost his way in the forest? Well Daddy went on a quest to find you and got lost.” Harriet continued.

           “How is he going to get un-lost?” Hamish asked looking distressed.

           “Well who helped the knight in the story Hamish?” Harry prodded the boy.

           “Another knight.” He answered quietly.

           “Yes well a whole bunch of knights are out looking for him right now Hamish.” Sherlock added. Hamish still looked upset and worried but he seemed to calm considerably at these words. Sherlock looked to Harry who was now pouring the tea.

           “How do you like your tea Mr. Holmes?” she asked.

           “Sherlock, Mr. Holmes is my intolerable older brother, and with two sugars and milk please.” He replied.

           “Hamish I brought you a glass of juice.” Harriet said to the little boy as she prepared Sherlock’s tea.

Sherlock set the boy down beside him and handed him the juice from the tray. Hamish took it and sipped quietly still apparently processing things. Sherlock accepted the tea gratefully and began to focus on Harry again. She seemed to have calmed as well.

           “So what did else my brother tell you?” he asked her.

          “He said he knew of my recent troubles and informed me that until I got them under control again I wouldn’t be allowed to care for Hamish.” She replied. Sherlock took in her appearance again noting the flushed skin and slight shake to her hand.

           “I assume you mean your alcohol problem?” Sherlock stated. She winced at the bluntness and then nodded.

           “Yes. I uh- have struggled with it for a while. When Johnny came home he tried to persuade me multiple times to give it up, to go to rehab. It took a while but he finally got me to go to and stick to it. I was almost two years sober when he went missing and I--- I couldn’t hold it together.” She drew in a deep breath as she ran her hand through her hair nervously.

           “Home from what?” he asked.

           “He was a soldier stationed in Afghanistan.” She replied looking miserable. “He’s going to be so disappointed.”

           Sherlock wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. He didn’t know the man well enough to judge what he would think one way or the other.

           “What are you going to do?” he asked instead.

           “Get sober again. That is the plan anyway.” She said with a smile. “Your brother recommended a rehab facility, Three Rivers I think he said it was called.”

           “I know it.” Sherlock stated. It was the exact rehab facility that his brother had sent him to. Harry looked at him raising her eyebrows. “University doesn’t end well for everyone.” He stated.

           “Alcohol for you too?” She questioned.

           “No, not exactly.” he shook his head. “But I have been clean for almost 5 years now so there is no need to worry.” He finished. Harry looked at him thoughtfully.

           “No I don’t think there is.” She stated finally.

           “How do you know?” He asked curiously.

           “Hamish is an excellent judge of character.” She smiled looking at the boy. Sherlock looked down as well and found the little boy considerably calmer than before.

          “You alright?” he asked the boy who nodded.

          “I packed some clothes in a suitcase for him, but he might want to take some of his toys.” Harry offered.

          “Would you like to go gather some of your toys?” Sherlock asked grateful that they could take something to occupy the child’s time at his flat.

          “Why?” Hamish asked confused.

          “Well you are going to go back with Mr. Sherlock here for a while ok?” Harry answered.

          “No! What if Daddy comes home?” the little boy whined in distress, a few more tears escaping down his cheeks.

          “Well Mr. Sherlock here is one of the knights that is going to help find your daddy, don’t you want to help him?” Harry coaxed. Hamish thought for a few moments still unsure.

          “Hamish, Aunt Harry is also a little sick and has to go away to get better. While she gets better you can help me and some of the other Knights find your Dad. Ok?”

          “I can help Daddy?”

          “Yes of course, I bet you would be the biggest help of all!” Harriet confirmed. “Why don’t you go get some of your toys together ok?”

Hamish finally nodded and gulped down the rest of his juice before running down the hallway and disappearing from sight. Sherlock looked back at Harry who was staring after the boy with a look of love and sadness.

          “He looks so much like John.” She sighed.

          “Tell me about the day they went missing.” He asked her snapping her back to attention.

          “I already told all of this to your brother.” She stated her brow furrowing in confusion.

           “Yes well I am a detective myself and I prefer to collect my own information. My brother likes to edit too much.” He replied. Harriet snorted at this.

           “Don’t have to explain to me, John always leaves out information to. Especially if he thinks he’s protecting someone.” She smiles briefly before beginning. “Well both John and I had to work that day so Hamish was at daycare. I usually pick him up on my way home from work but when I arrived they told me that Hamish had already left. I called John but received no answer so I assumed that John had gotten off early and had picked him up and went home. When I got here nobody was home. I waited until the time John was scheduled to be home and then I called his office. They said that he had not come back after his lunch break and they hadn’t been able to reach him all afternoon. Of course after that I became panicked and called Mary.”

          “Mary?” Sherlock asked.

          “Yes John’s wife. It was very unlike John to leave work in the middle of the day without an excuse. I hoped that they were with her or that she knew where they were. “  
            “Did she?”

          “If she did she wouldn’t say. She seemed as panicked as I was when I told her. Then she froze up and said she had to go. She wouldn’t answer any of my calls after that. So after another day I filed a report.” Sherlock nodded at this.

          “Do you know why the separated?” He asked.

          “Shortly after Hamish was born Mary up and left. John was so angry. I suspect he knew why she left but he never told me. Anyway about a year ago she came back wanting to be apart of John and Hamish’s lives again. John wouldn’t take her back of course but he did allow her to see Hamish. The three of them would go to dinner or the park. I think she was waiting for John to come around but I don’t think that would have ever happened. They had huge fight a couple of weeks before he went missing. I think it had something to do with why she left the first time but I couldn’t say.” She finished with a shrug.

          “You know that she was found dead?” He inquired.

          “Yes your brother mentioned it.” She nodded looking rather tired.

They sat in silence for a while drinking their tea each lost in thought. Sherlock finally remembered another question he had for her.

          “What do you mean when you say Hamish is a good judge of character?” He queried.

          “Hamish has always been that way. He opens up to some and actively avoids others. We had a neighbor a while back that was always so friendly but Hamish hated her. He refused to talk to her or even look at her. A few weeks later she was arrested for charges of blackmail.” She smiled at him. Sherlock considers this for a bit.

          “He doesn’t talk much. Still he is rather articulate for a three year old.” He finally said after a while.

          “Oh you just wait. Soon enough you won’t be able to shut him up. He will be four in less than a week.” She replied fondly.

          “Well hopefully I will no longer be looking after him by then.” He stated as he stood up. “I should probably hurry him along. You look as if you need a rest.”

          “Hm yes that might be good. I’ll get him if you don’t mind.” She asked hopefully. He nodded and moved to wait by the door, pulling out his mobile to arrange for a taxi.

After ten minutes or so Harry appeared caring a duffle bag in one hand and holding Hamish’s hand in another both of their faces showing evidence of an emotional goodbye. Sherlock took the duffle from her slinging the strap around his shoulder before grasping the handle of the suitcase.

          “Well Sherlock I don’t know how to thank you for helping. Is there some way I can reach you?” Harry requested. Sherlock nodded handing her a business card with his number on it. Mycroft’s stupid Christmas present did come in handy once in a while, he thought reluctantly.

          “You can call whenever, although I do prefer to text. If you go to Three Rivers I can bring Hamish to visit you.” He offered.

He was almost knocked off his feet as Harry surged forward and hugged him fiercely. He blinked a few times in astonishment before patting her lightly with his free arm.

          “Find him Sherlock. Please.” She pleaded into his ear before releasing him.

He nodded, unsure of what else to say he motioned for Hamish to follow him instead. Hamish turned and hugged his Aunt once more before hurrying outside to the waiting taxi. Sherlock gave her one last look before walking down the path pulling the suitcase behind him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really only read through this once. Hopefully there aren't too many errors. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you like it! again if there is something you want to see Sherlock have to tackle with Hamish let me know. I can't promise to include it but I will certainly consider it!


	5. The cooking experiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock surprises everyone with is unorthodox cooking methods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say that response for this fic has been overwhelming and I am truly grateful for all of you guys really! I still can't believe that this started out as inkling of an idea has become so popular. You guys are amazing.

           

 

 

            “Sirlock?” Hamish asked quietly. Sherlock looked down at the boy who was squashed up against his side in the cab.

            “Yes?” Sherlock prompted him to continue.

            “I’m hungry.”

“Alright. I’ll fix you something when we get back to the flat.” Sherlock replied smiling slightly. Normal people required a lot of food to function he thought as he turned his gaze to the window.

            A short time later the cab stopped and Sherlock ushered the little boy out carrying the bags behind him. After struggling to get the duffle bag and the suitcase up the few steps and into the entryway Sherlock decided to come back for the suitcase on a second trip.

           He followed Hamish up the stairs slowly, ready to catch the little boy if he fell. Once in the flat he placed the duffle down and went down to quickly retrieve the suitcase. Back upstairs he found Hamish had opened the duffle and was carefully pulling his things out. Sherlock left him to play making his way to the kitchen to fix lunch.

          He looked through the cabinet carefully assessing the options that were left from Lestrade’s grocery trip: some more soup, some cans of ‘O’ shaped pasta in red sauce, a box of pasta and cheese, a few cans of vegetables.  Frowning Sherlock plucked out a few things and brought them to Hamish.

        “What would you like?” Sherlock asked setting the options down in front of the little boy. Hamish looked up from his toy cars that he was meticulously lining up on the carpet. He looked at the pictures on the items and pointed to the box of cheese and macaroni. Sherlock nodded and swept off to start preparing it.

         He mused over the stove for a while, figuring out what buttons to push. Sherlock had never used the contraption before because Mrs. Hudson almost always made him food, if not he got take away. Finding a pot was a bigger problem really. Eventually he did find one in a drawer under the stove he hadn’t even been aware existed. He set the pot full of water to boil and pulled out his phone. Mycroft was being entirely to slow with the case and Sherlock was bored.

 

                 I want to see the file on Mary Watson, as well as her computer. –SH

 

         He looked down at the pot and noticed the water boiling. Opening the box he found a packet of the cheese presumably and pulled it out before dumping the noodles into the water. He examined the packet and found that it seemed to contain a powder. Confused Sherlock opened it a bit and found that it was indeed an orange-yellow powder. The pot on the stove was bubbling furiously so Sherlock set the package down for later perusal. He turned the heat down but soon the water was not moving at all.

         How do people work like this!!!! This infernal contraption makes it impossible to keep things at the proper temperature! Sherlock thought rubbing his face in his hands. His phone beeped with a reply.

 

**Very well. –MH**

 

        Well that was short, even for Mycroft. No rude comment either. Must be with Lestrade Sherlock thought.

        He looked back at the pot in frustration when he got an idea. Grinning he turned the stove off and moved the pot to the side. Of course there was a better way to cook this! Why didn’t he think of this before! Sherlock thought with a grin.

 

 

 

 

  

           “Didn’t expect to find you home.” Greg stated to his husband as he entered their house. Mycroft was seated at the table in front of his laptop with stacks of files around him.

            “My assistant seems to think I needed a day off.” Mycroft grumbled as he typed furiously at his computer.

            “And this is your idea of a day off?” Greg asked swooping down to kiss Mycroft’s forehead. Mycroft sat back in his chair and flashed him a smile.

            “What she doesn’t know won’t kill her. I have too many pressing matters to attend to and no time for a day of leisure.” Mycroft sniffed. Greg laughed a little at his husband’s irritated expression.

            “What I want to know is how she even got you to leave the office.” Greg wondered.

            “I got into my usual car to head to a meeting and ended up here. Apparently there was no meeting and she paid the driver, quite handsomely I’m told, to take me here and leave me.” Mycroft explained in calm manner that belied how displeased he really was.

            “You could walk, or ride in a cab.” Greg couldn’t resist taunting his lover who detested public transport. Mycroft’s face contorted in disgust.

            “Don’t be absurd Greg.” Mycroft sneered. Greg turned and went to grab a drink stifling the rest of his laughter. He really was going to have to get that assistant to tell him her trade secrets so he could use them for his own purposes. When he came back to the table Mycroft was frowning at his phone.

            “What is it My?” Greg asked pulling out a chair.

            “Sherlock is nosing his way into the case.” Mycroft huffed in annoyance.

            “Now you know how I feel.” Greg shot back at him. “Might be good to get his opinion on things.”

            “I am perfectly capable of handling this issue without his interference. I gave him his job to do.” Mycroft said in a clipped tone.

            “Mycroft you are beyond capable but Sherlock has his own sort of method. His mind makes connections in a different way, not better just different. Might be good to bounce ideas off of each other.” Greg explains. Mycroft still looks opposed to the whole idea so Greg continues. “If nothing else agreeing to his help will help shut him up for one, two it will get him off my back and three it could help in locating Hamish’s father faster.”

             Mycroft finally relents and texts Sherlock back before standing and collecting a few files.

             “You’re going now?” Greg asked somewhat shocked.

             “The sooner I make this errand the faster I can deal with a few other pressing matters. There is a situation in Paraguay that needs tending to.” Mycroft cryptically replies.

             “Yet another reason to pass it off on your brother. Wait for me I’ll come with you.” Greg grins hopping up to go grab a few things.

             Greg met Mycroft at his car and hastily slides into the driver seat. He passes the bag in his hand to Mycroft as he shifts the car into gear.

            “What’s this?” Mycroft eyes the bag curiously.

           “Camera.” He replies with a smile. “I missed my opportunity to snap a picture of your brother being so caring before and I will not miss it again. You should have seen his panic My, it was so endearing. I still can’t believe he thought junk food was an appropriate meal.” He chuckled. “I am a little worried that he might have set the flat on fire trying to cook something proper for the boy though.”

            “I can imagine that it was quite a sight. I wouldn’t be too worried of fire, Mrs. Hudson usually cooks for my brother I am sure she is doing the same for Hamish.”

 

           

 

 

            Sherlock smiled as the water boiled at the perfect temperature. Using his Bunsen burner had been a stroke of genius. It took no time at all to set up the burner and to rig the stand to hold the pot. It even made this cooking thing a bit more tolerable thinking of it as an experiment.

He turned his attention back to the packet of powder that was supposedly the cheese. He looked over the directions again and found that when you added a small amount of butter and milk to the powder it became the cheese sauce. Sherlock wrinkled his nose.

That is not cheese. Really why couldn’t food manufactures label their foods properly. He thought.

Sighing he did as the instructions said anyways mixing the concoction in a bowl. He had to admit it did smell like cheese, and after a brief taste he could confirm that it also tasted somewhat like cheese. He looked over at Hamish who was still playing happily on the floor.

            He heard footsteps on the stairs and looked over in time to see his brother and brother-in-law walk in.

            “Sherlock what are you doing?” Greg asked in astonishment.

            “Cooking. What does it look like?” Sherlock rolled his eyes. He checked the pasta and found that it was done. He turned his Bunsen burner off and carried the pot to the sink to drain the water out carefully. Turning he poured the now dry pasta into the bowl and mixed it in with the cheese sauce.

            “Hamish lunch.” He called before looking up at Mycroft and Lestrade again both of whom were wearing identical expressions of amazement.

            “You do realize that most people do the cooking over the stove?” Lestrade finally asked looking over Sherlock’s set up.

            “Please, it is much easier to control the heat while cooking using a Bunsen burner than with an electric stove!” He replied dismantling the ring stand and unhooking the Bunsen burner before moving it aside. He looked over to see Hamish wavering in the doorway eyeing the intruders warily. “Hamish this is my brother Mycroft and his husband Inspector Lestrade.”

            The little boy walks cautiously to Sherlock’s side still unsure of what to think of these two new strangers.

            “Sherlock he met us.” Lestrade stated.

            “He never got your names however. Hamish they are two of the Knights working to find your daddy.” He explains to the little boy. At this Hamish’s expression clears and he clambers onto a chair without any hesitation. Sherlock likewise sits down next to him handing him the bowl of food and a spoon. Sherlock glances up and finds that Lestrade has a look of amazement again. Mycroft simply looks bored and places a few files on the table before sitting down as well.

            Sherlock reaches for the first file and reads through the first page.

 

            Mary Watson

            Age: 33

            Height: 5 ft. 5

            Weight: 9 stone 10lbs

            Occupation: Hired assassin

            Husband: Dr. John Watson former military. Rank: Captain.

            Kills: Avero Rameriz, Ivan Klovov, Andrew Bakersfield, Chester Graves….

 

            And on and on it went. Sherlock was mildly surprised to find that John was a doctor. Interesting, He thought briefly before continuing through the file. After finding nothing overly useful he put the file down and reached for another. Hamish tugged on his arm drawing his attention. The little boy offered his bowl of food and Sherlock shook his head slightly.

            “Not hungry. You eat it.” He replied gently. Hamish frowned and shook his head. “Hamish I am not hungry you go ahead and eat, it’s getting cold.”

            Hamish shook his head again and pushed the bowl towards him before crossing his arms in determination. Sighing Sherlock got up and grabbed another bowl. After scraping a small portion of the food into his bowl he grabbed a spoon and took a bite. The congealed concoction wasn’t nearly as bad as Sherlock thought it was going to be. He looked to Hamish who was now smiling and had resumed eating. Sherlock rolled his eyes and took another bite before reaching for the laptop that his brother had brought.

  

 

           

            Mycroft watched in astonishment as the little boy got his brother to eat. Sherlock had always been one to ignore things his body needed and food was no different. Mycroft thinks back to the hundreds of times he fought to get Sherlock to eat food over the years and marveled at how easily this little boy achieved the feat. Mycroft looked at Gregory who likewise gazed at the action in wonder.

            “Does he do that often?” Gregory asked finally. Sherlock looks up at both of them with a scowl on his face.

            “Yes. Mrs. Hudson made a comment about making sure I eat the first night and he apparently has taken the suggestion to heart.” Sherlock informed them with a look of displeasure. Gregory laughed at this explanation and Mycroft covered his own smile.

            “Well Hamish you must have super powers or something.” Gregory chuckled. Hamish perked up at Gregory’s words and a huge grin broke out on his face.

            “Don’t give him ridiculous ideas Lestrade. You’ll lower his IQ with talk like that and lord knows we don’t need another Anderson around.” Sherlock grumbled turning his attention to the laptop Mycroft had brought.

            Hamish giggled and finished his lunch before hopping down and disappearing down the hall.

            “Wash your hands.” Sherlock called after the little boy without looking up from his computer. “Where are you in the investigation?”

            Mycroft ignored his question and waited for the little boy to reappear. He turned to Gregory and inclined his head towards the living room. Gregory nodded and turned towards the little boy.

            “Hamish do you wanna play for a little while?” Gregory asked. Hamish considered this for a few moments looking at Gregory carefully. Curious. Mycroft thought and studied the boy more closely. Hamish seemed to have decided something and nodded at Gregory before running to the living room. Greg grasped his shoulder and smiled as he followed Hamish. Mycroft watched as Greg sat on the floor and began to ask the little boy more questions.

            He looked back at Sherlock and found his brother staring at him. Sherlock rolled his eyes and quirked an eyebrow, his mouth frowning in annoyance.

            “I do hate to repeat myself but where are you in the investigation?” He asked. Mycroft sighed and shifted his attention back to the case.

            “We have scanned the security footage of Dr. Watson and Hamish being taken. Both of them were taken in an unmarked cars that left city limits.”

            “How did Hamish get to the police station?” Sherlock prodded.

            “He was dropped by another unmarked car. Before you ask yes we traced the car back to a warehouse on the outskirts of London. This of course indicates that once being brought outside of London they were then brought back to confuse someone.”

            “That would be the mother. She had considerable skills from what I can gather, she would have tried to find them and get them out before capitulating to their demands.” Sherlock rattled off typing away at the computer.

            “That would explain why when my men searched the warehouse they found no trace of John.” Mycroft said with a grim smile.

            “Oh!” Sherlock looked up. “They kept them separate. Of course! That way if she was able to locate one of them she wouldn’t be able to get one out without risking the danger to the other.”

            “That seems the logical explanation yes.”

            “What else did you find at the warehouse?” Sherlock questioned his face alight with curiosity.

            “Nothing apart from a few dead bodies. Professional kills.” Mycroft explained.

            “So it was an opposing organization that had her killed. Why save Hamish then? It doesn’t add up. ” Sherlock pondered.

            “No it doesn’t. This rival organization must have other motives.”

            “No doubt your employers are more concerned with those than recovering a hostage.” Sherlock sneered.

            “That may be, they are still working to find him however. We don’t have much to go on unfortunately.” Mycroft countered.

            “Oh I wouldn’t say that.” Sherlock smirked and went back to perusing the laptop.

            “I’ll leave you to it then shall I?” Mycroft stood to leave. After receiving no acknowledgement from his brother he walked over to Gregory.

            Gregory and Hamish were hard at work constructing a small puzzle. Mycroft watched for a few moments as Hamish sorted the pieces with care. Obviously this was a favorite pastime for the boy, a curious one for a boy of his age.

            “You headed out My?” Gregory asked him.

            “Yes I have that situation in Paraguay to deal with.” He replied.

            “Alright then.” Greg made to get up.

            “No no you stay if you want. I’m having my assistant pick me up.” At this Gregory smirked slightly.

            “How are you going to explain working on your forced day off?” He asked.

            “Well I might have indicated that it was entirely your fault.” Mycroft replied coolly successfully keeping his face blank at Gregory’s ruffled expression. Mycroft smiled and walk towards the door.

            “Mycroft!” Gregory uttered in annoyance. “The last thing I need is your assistant to turn on me.”

            “Don’t worry Gregory. She is aware of my affection for you and is unlikely to do anything drastic.” Mycroft chuckled slightly letting Gregory know he was jesting. After a few moments Mycroft requested, “Sherlock seems to be on to something. Let me know when he finally decides to expound on his theories.”

            Gregory smiled at him and nodded before waving him away.

            “Go deal with your crisis in Paraguay.” He replied fondly.

            With one last look at his brother Mycroft turned and left to deal with the rest of the worlds problems.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that bit :) 
> 
> How did I do? Still making sense and piquing your interest??  
> There is lots more fun to come I promise. In the meantime have any wishes that you would like fulfilled? In regards to John or future situations? You guys have been really awesome in your enthusiasm so I am very curious what all of you are interested in seeing. Of course I have my own plan but if you make a good suggestion or argument I can certainly be persuaded! 
> 
> As always pardon the mistakes, I got a science degree so grammar is not my strong point. Eventually I'll get around to fixing them. Maybe. .....ok lets be honest probably not unless it is blatantly obvious or pointed out to me. ;) I hope you forgive me anyhow.


	6. Puzzles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock figures out where John is, well sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright sorry this is later than usual guys I have been a little under the weather which made it difficult to finish this update. But Hope you enjoy!!!

         

 

            Sherlock vaguely heard his brother leave as he began a more thorough search through Mary’s computer. He found a few more encrypted files that he had bypassed the first time around. These files were much harder to open, triply encrypted and well done at that. He could open them of course; it was just going to take slightly longer. He set to work his fingers flying across the keyboard.

            In no time he was able to peruse the secret files at his leisure. He raised his eyebrows at the content. Mary had figured out where her son was being kept and had a plan to rescue him. What’s more, Mary knew where John was being kept as well. Excited he fired off a text to Mycroft and then promptly went back to Mary’s files.

            After a short time he noticed someone next to him. Looking down he found a tired looking Hamish. The little boy reached for him and Sherlock wordlessly pulled him into his lap letting the little boy rest against him as he continued to look over the information.

 

 

 

            Greg watched Mycroft leave and then with a brief glance in Sherlock’s direction he turned back to the little boy on the floor. When he had asked Hamish what he wanted to play with he hadn’t expected that the little boy would pull a puzzle box out of a bag.

            It wasn’t a very large puzzle, only 100 pieces, but for a child at Hamish’s age it was still surprising. He had opened the puzzle and watched as Hamish had set to work organizing the pieces by color and placing the edge pieces in a separate pile. Greg looked at the little boy more closely wondering if he could be older than he appeared. He helped with the puzzle here and there, more interested in watching Hamish work than helping.

            Hamish ignored him for the most part, occasionally taking a piece from his hands and putting it in the right place. Every so often Hamish would look around him at Sherlock, as if to make sure he was still there.

           Hamish was about halfway finished with the puzzle when his energy began to fade. Greg watched as the little boy’s eyes began to blink sleepily his actions becoming slower. He wondered if he should put the child to bed. His own children napped frequently when they had been Hamish’s age. Hamish also had the added distress of the last few days.

           “Hamish why don’t you lay down for a while?” Greg asked him softly. Hamish looked up at him and blinked a few times. Greg was debating on whether or not to pick the boy up and take him to bed when Hamish stood. Greg watched as the little boy picked up a stuffed toy and shuffled over to Sherlock.

            Greg got up hastily; interrupting Sherlock while he was at work never went well. Sherlock noticed Hamish before he could do anything and Greg tensed waiting for Sherlock to growl at the interruption. 

           When Sherlock simply picks the boy up to rest in his lap and goes back to work Greg was certain that the world was going to end, either that or he was in a very strange, possibly drug induced, dream. In all the years he had known Sherlock, he had never seen Sherlock behave quite so, well normally.

           After recovering from shock he quickly pulled out his camera and snapped a few shots. He had missed the opportunity earlier when Hamish had gotten Sherlock to eat and he wasn’t about to miss this one.

           Evidence procured he walked over to the table and sat across from Sherlock watching as he continued to work. Greg looked to Hamish who was now sound asleep cuddled against Sherlock’s chest.

          “Found anything?” he asks quietly. With Hamish asleep he figures he can probably interrupt without too much irritability on Sherlock’s part. Sherlock flicks his gaze up, noticing him for the first time. He narrows his eyes with a look that Greg takes to mean ‘If you even make one comment about me allowing Hamish into my lap right now I will dismember you into a thousand pieces and feed them to rabid wolves’. Greg just smiles thinking of the pictures he already has and waits for Sherlock to expound on the information before him.

           “Don’t you have work to be at?” Sherlock sneered.

           “Day off.” He replied with a smirk before questioning “So?”

            Sherlock huffs but begins to rattle of information anyway.

          “Mary had been planning her own rescue attempt for Hamish and for John. She had extremely detailed plans, building layouts, the number of men per building locations everything.” He says. “And yes I have already informed my brother of where John is being held.”

            “How was My not able to get that from her files?” Greg asked in confusion.

            “The files were triply encrypted and Mycroft never was as good of a hacker as I am.” Sherlock smirked. “It took me marginally longer to break into than a normal file but I always get through in the end.”

            Greg shakes his head thinking not for the first time of what a dangerous criminal Sherlock would make if he were so inclined.

            “So what are you still looking for?” Greg asked.

            “There is still the matter of who she was working for, who killed her and why, and why they returned Hamish as they did.” Sherlock scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “It is never a good thing when assassins are running about killing people. It is even more concerning when those assassins are also start turning up dead. It is transparent that an opposing organization killed Mary and the other couple of suspicious suicides you alluded to because they refused to switch allegiances. Mary’s reasoning for her refusal is clear, her son and husband. The other’s motives for denial I can only guess at. “

            “Blimy this is one big mess.” Greg groaned and rubbed his eyes as he took in that information.

            “It only gets worse. There are two major questions that need answering. One: why would they, whoever they are let Hamish go? It simply doesn’t make sense for either organization to do such a thing. They have a higher potential for being routed out not to mention it shows a weakness that organizations such as these can’t afford to have. The second question that needs answering is who was Mary working for. She had quite an impressive kill list and her next target would have only increased her reputation if she had pulled it off.” Sherlock finished with a grimace.

            “Who was her next target?” Greg prompted warily.

            “Mycroft.” Sherlock answered simply. Greg sat in silence at the news attempting to override his panic and anger. It wasn’t the first time people had targeted Mycroft. They never succeeded of course but that didn’t help his peace of mind any.

 

 

 

 

            Sherlock watched as emotion after emotion swept over Lestrade’s face. He looked down at Hamish and watched the little boy sleep peacefully while he waited for Greg to calm himself. There was really nothing else to be gained from Mary’s laptop or the files his brother had provided. He would have to wait for new evidence to turn up, hopefully evidence in the form of John Watson. His interactions with the kidnappers would be invaluable.

             The file Mary had on her husband was quite intriguing.  An army doctor yes but an army doctor who had forgone a safe field position at a hospital in favor of switching to a field unit that actively went into enemy territory. There was also plenty of indication that John himself was an excellent marksman, sniper level in fact. Yet the man had chosen to go back to hospital work when he had been discharged. Curious. Sherlock thought.

       Hamish shifted slightly in his lap drawing his stuffed elephant closer to his chest as the hand gripping Sherlock’s shirt tightened.

           “He seems extremely intelligent for his age.” Lestrade remarked unexpectedly. Sherlock looked up at him to see the inspector had resigned himself to wait for more information rather than panic over what Sherlock had told him. When Sherlock said nothing in reply Lestrade continued. “You know he picked a puzzle to play with. Not even a simple one meant for children his age but a hundred piece puzzle. He even sorted the pieces before he began.”

           “Could be a learned behavior.” Sherlock commented looking back down at the boy in his arms. “Although I agree he does seem rather intelligent for his age.”

          “My kids wouldn’t have been able to do it.” Greg replied.

          “No surprise there.” Sherlock snorted. He grunted in pain when Lestrade kicked him under the table. The jostle shook Hamish who in turn shifted restlessly and began to cough. Sherlock glared at Greg who shrank, smiling sheepishly. 

           Hamish was wide-awake again once his cough had abated but he had made no move to leave Sherlock’s lap. Sherlock considered him carefully. Hamish’s nose was running and his breathing had become strained. Perhaps it was time for more medicine. Carefully he stood up, holding Hamish against him, and turned to measure out more cold medicine. He holds the spoon to Hamish who shakes his head in refusal once more.

          “Hamish it will make you feel better.” Sherlock coaxed carefully avoiding spilling any of the vile smelling liquid. With no reaction from the little boy he turns to his earlier tactic. “I’ll give you a biscuit.”

          “You shouldn’t bribe him Sherlock!” Lestrade scolded from behind him. Sherlcok turned and scowled.

          “Well how would you get him to take it??” He asked exasperated. Lestrade smiles slightly and walks over to him taking the spoon from his hand.

          “Now Hamish I know this medicine is terrible but it is necessary. I’ll make you a deal, Sherlock will have some if you have some. Hmm? Sound good?” Lestrade smirked up at him. He felt Hamish nod and before he could object Lestrade had shoved the spoonful of revolting medicine into his mouth.

          Sherlock swallowed the nauseating concoction quickly his mouth contorting in disgust.

         “Dear god what is that? Poison?” He laments wondering how he is ever going to get the taste out of his mouth. Hamish begins to giggle in his arms.

         “Alright now you Hamish.” Lestrade chuckles bringing the refilled spoon closer for Hamish to take. Hamish swallows it down without complaint still smiling up at Sherlock.

         “Well I deserve a biscuit after that atrocity.” Sherlock remarks moving to the cabinet to retrieve his favorite chocolate biscuits.

         “Sherlock!” Lestrade whines behind him.

         “You taste that Poison and then tell me we don’t deserve a treat.” He replied ignoring him and reaching into the cabinet and to pull out a cookie for Hamish and then one for himself. Hamish takes the cookie and then points to a jar on the first shelf. Sherlock looks and finds the jar of peanut butter that they had gotten at the store.

         Curious, he set his biscuit down and reached for the jar. He opened it and offered it to Hamish who was still settled comfortably in his arms. Without hesitation Hamish dipped his biscuit into the gooey mess before taking a bite of the cookie. He watched Hamish do this once more before setting the jar on the counter and dipping his biscuit in to do the same.

         “Lestrade I think you are right.” He stated looking back at the now bewildered detective.

         “Huh?” Lestrade asked astounded.

         “I think you are right. Hamish is clearly a genius.” Sherlock finishes taking another bite of the delicious combination. Hamish giggled in his arms. Sherlock rolled his eyes and grabbed another biscuit from the shelf. He coated it in peanut butter before passing it to the inspector.

         Lestrade took it and bit into it with bemused expression. Sherlock looked down at Hamish who had finished his treat and had adorable smudges of peanut butter on either side of his mouth. Adorable? Where had that come from. Sherlock scolded himself. Reaching for a flannel to wipe it away.

       “Hmmm yes clearly a genius.” Lestrade hummed appreciatively.

        Sherlock nodded in agreement and moved to pick up his mobile that had begun to ring.

 

        “Mycroft.” He answered.

_“My men searched the building.”_

         “And?” He waited.

_“They found it to be the same as the other site with one difference.” Mycroft paused. “There was clearly a struggle with some of the men and no trace of Dr. Watson.”_

        “I want to study the scene. We will be there in 10 minutes.” Sherlock replied hanging up the phone.

        “Well?” Lestrade asked as Sherlock moved to put Hamish in a coat.

        “Searched the building but no sign of John. I am going to go gather what evidence they have missed. Mycroft said there was no trace of him but I doubt his minions will recognize relevant information when they see it.” Sherlock easily got Hamish into his coat and had donned his own. He then swept towards the stairs with a bundled up Hamish in his arms.

        “You can’t just take Hamish along with you!” Lestrade followed him down the stairs.

        “Why ever not?” Sherlock paused on the landing looking back at Lestrade in confusion.

        “It’s a crime scene Sherlock. It will give him nightmares!” Lestrade explained.

        “Oh.” Sherlock muttered and considered his options. Hamish seemed to be comfortable with very few people at present. He could always get Harry to watch him for a few hours but if Sherlock’s suspicions were right that could put Hamish in danger of being taken once more. Another loose end would be easily tied up.

         Sherlock looked at Lestrade. Hamish seemed to approve of him but would he consent to stay here with him with little fuss while Sherlock left. Hmmm unlikely. Sherlock thought.

        “You will have to come as well then. You can watch him in the car while I go inside. That way he is close by and feels safe but won’t see anything he shouldn’t.” Sherlock concludes racing down the rest of the stairs. He hears Lestrade sigh heavily behind him as he follows.

 

 

 

 

           “Alright Hamish, I am going to go in that building for a few minutes and look around but I will be right back ok? You are going to wait here with Detective Lestrade.” Sherlock explains to the little boy. Hamish looks at him from the back seat with trepidation and shakes his head. He reaches for Sherlock as tears threaten to spill.

           “Here Hamish,” Lestrade grabs a radio from the dash. “You take this and Sherlock will take the other. Now if you get scared or frightened you can talk to him and he will reply.”

           Lestrade turns the device on and then shoves the other into Sherlock’s hands. Sherlock turns it on and tests it to ease the boy’s fears.

          “See Hamish, you can talk to me the whole time.” He explains through the radio.

          Hamish’s face begins to clear slightly and he leans forward to speak into the radio.

          “Sirlock?” He says timidly. It echoes from the one in Sherlock’s hand and he smiles.

          “Alright I promise I won’t be very long. If you get nervous just say something into it and I’ll talk back to you ok?” At this Hamish finally nods.

          Sherlock looks to Lestrade and nods once before stepping out of the car and walking briskly into the abandoned building. Mycroft’s men are still mulling about but they let him pass without question. The building itself looks to be an old office building, gutted and bare. The first room holds two bodies, each shot once through the head. Clean, precise.

          Down the hall there is another room that holds a multitude of surveillance equipment and a single body. Sherlock steps around the tech’s that are cataloguing evidence to find another clear shot through the head.

         The next room is the room John was being held in. A cot with some dirty blankets is pushed up against the wall is all that it contains. Still Sherlock sees no sign of struggle. The door has not been forced open from either side, nor is there any scuffs or blood to indicate a fight.

         Sherlock walks out of the room and continues. The next room is much larger, the walls are bare and there is one window without any glass. The door here has been forced open from the outside. There are three bodies scattered about the room. These are contorted into odd positions unlike the clean fall of the other bodies that suggested a hit. So here was the struggle. One man had a broken neck another had multiple contusions to the face and body as well as a shot to the heart. The last body had quite a bit of bruising but had clearly died of asphyxiation. All very different methods of killing therefore not hits but crimes of opportunity and passion.

          Sherlock moved to look at the rest of the room. There was a chair in the middle of the floor. There were a few drops of blood in addition to a pile of severed rope. The pieces clicked into place. There was a crackle of the radio in his hand.

         “Sirlock?” Hamish’s timid voice inquired.

          “I’m here Hamish. I am on my way out in two more minutes, not to worry!” He replies to the little boy.

           So something happens for them to take their captive into this room to intimidate, interrogate or kill him. Could have been rescued but the bonds were clearly self-cut therefore he breaks free and fights his way out. Now if the captive killed these men then his next move would be to leave the building without getting caught. So the way through the front would not be an option, more men more chances of being caught and killed. Conclusion: Somebody else shot the men in the other rooms.

          Sherlock stalked over to the window and peered out. A few drops of blood on the sill and ground below prove his theory. The captive, presumably John, had scrambled from the building and made his escape. To where? Though that is the question.

          Sherlock turns on his heal and heads back to the car pulling out his mobile has he goes.

 

           Scan all hospitals in area for patient with John’s description. Scan footage from CCTV cameras near back of building. –SH

 

        He sends off to his brother. John clearly escaped and more than likely was hurt in the struggle to get free. With any luck he would have found his way to help or someone would have found him and taken him to get care.

        Sherlock smiled as he walked up to the car. Hamish was standing in the back seat watching carefully for Sherlock, his small hands clutched around the radio. He smiled when he spotted Sherlock, any remnant anxiety disappearing from his face.

      “See there he is Hamish.” Lestrade smiled as Sherlock stepped back into the car. “Where to now?”

      “Hungry!” Hamish called happily from behind them. Sherlock groaned.

      “Again?” He whined. Lestrade just chuckled beside him as he drove them back to Baker Street.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always sorry for any mistakes! 
> 
> You guys are so amazing btw!!!! 
> 
> John will finally appear next update, don't fear!!! :)


	7. First impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John!!!!!! no other explanation needed.

 

 

            Sherlock quietly closed his bedroom door and walked to the living room. Greg had offered to make dinner and Sherlock had gladly accepted. After a hearty meal of spaghetti, which Hamish and Lestrade had insisted he eat, Hamish had played happily with some toy cars before falling asleep on his puzzle. Sherlock had carefully picked the boy up and put him to bed only to have him wake up with a nightmare a couple hours later. Sherlock had calmed him down and put him to bed once more, only to have it happen again two hours later.

             It’s a good thing I don’t sleep much, he thought. He looked around his living room, now scattered with toys instead of books and science equipment. Sighing he flopped down into his chair and looked at the clock. Almost six. Hamish would be up in no time and wanting breakfast. Sherlock’s mobile buzzed with a text message. He pulled it out and read the message from his brother.

 

**Found, St. Mary’s Hospital.** **Room 319 – MH**

Sherlock sighed in relief. John had been found. Well that solves the problem of how to entertain Hamish today.

 

 

 

       John woke up slowly, registering the sound of the machines around him. He had woken a few times before barely registering anything but the nurses, however this time was different, his head was clearer and his body didn’t feel as sluggish. From his half awake state he remembers very little, the nurses trying to talk to him and a man with red hair dressed in a suit looking on. The door opens and John still can’t quite bring himself to open his eyes.

       “He is doing much better as you can see, and the scans show that the swelling from the concussion has gone down significantly.” A woman, nurse presumably, explained.

       “Good. He is going to be moved to a secure room tonight.” A deep voice responded.

         John waited until he heard the door open before opening his eyes. He caught a glimpse of the nurse in front but focused his attention on the man, whose back was now turned to him. The man had auburn hair and a pristine suit, so not a doctor then.

        John waited for the door to close before he sat up and assessed his condition. Weakness due to dehydration, cracked rib, broken wrist and apparently a concussion overall not bad, John thought. The strange man in his room was a bit worrisome. Secure facility? What did that mean? He couldn’t get locked down again! This is bloody ridiculous! He had to find Hamish! He had had quite enough of all the nonsense he had gotten into because of Mary.

       John disconnected the IV and heart monitor, shutting the machine off so it wouldn’t send any alert. He fumbled slightly without the use of his left hand. Of course he would have to break his dominate wrist he thought with irritation. At least he had more practice this time around using his right arm. Carefully he got out of the bed, pausing to steady himself before limping over to the door. John opened the door a crack to peer out. Shit, not good. Suited men guarded the door, getting out this way was not going to work.

         John walked over to the window and found he was on the third story, and there was no convenient ledge available to help him escape. Not to mention the windows that didn’t appear to open in any fashion.

        Sighing John went back to the door prepared to make a run for it. Not a good plan but he had no other choice really. He opened the door again and noticed the auburn haired man coming back towards the door with a few other men behind him.

       Shit! John thought closing the door quickly and looking about the room for something he could use as a weapon. Grimacing at the sparse surroundings John went back to his bed and found the IV needle once more. He quickly tore the needle off of the hose and then with a stroke of genius let the contents of the IV bag poor over the floor in front of him and the door, he could use a slippery floor to his advantage. John moved back a ways from the door to stand next to the only chair in the room. It didn’t look too heavy so he could probably throw it if he needed to. Alright, a needle, slippery floor and a chair, not the best but it would have to do John thought grimly. He relaxed into a solid stance just as the door opened once more.

       The auburn haired man walked a few steps in the room before he stopped his eyes widening slightly at the sight of John. Another man, one with silver hair and dressed much more causally stepped up beside him. 

          “John do you remember who you are?” The auburn haired man asked him taking a cautious step forward.

         John blinked looking from him to the silent gray haired man. There was one other just in front of the door, blocked by the other two.

        “Of course I do. Now if you would so kindly let me leave I have better things to do.” John said carefully before stepping forward prepared to take on this strange man.

        “Daddy?” a small voice stopped him mid action.

        “Hamish?” he cried looking around to the man at the door.

        “Mycroft do step aside!” the man stated stepping forward. The auburn haired man stepped sideways allowing John to take in the tall lean man with a mop of dark hair holding a bundle against his chest.

        “Hamish??” he whispered dropping the needle and stepping forward to the man. A little blonde head turned and looked at him, blinking his eyes sleepily. Little blue eyes focused on him and widened.

        “Daddy!!!!” Hamish cried contorting around reaching out for him. John pulled him into his arms and cradled him as his little boy began to sob.

       “I’m here Hamish. I’m here.” He choked out as tears began to run down his face.

 

 

       Sometime later, after a nurse had come in and guided him back to his bed, John sat and watched as the floor was mopped up and he was reattached to the IV. Hamish had settled down slightly, still clinging to John’s chest he sniffed every now and then. The three men still hadn’t left, but stood around and watched as the nurses flitted about. When the nurses had finally finished their business and left John looked at them each in turn.

      “Who are you lot then?” he asked suspiciously.

      “I am Sherlock Holmes.” The man who had been holding Hamish spoke up. “This is my brother Mycroft,” he gestured to the auburn haired man, “and his husband Greg Lestrade.”

      “Who are you with? Who has Mary pissed off now?” He replied bitterly.

       “John we are not here because we are extracting some revenge on Mary. In fact one could say it was quite the opposite.” Sherlock explained. John shook his head in confusion.

       “What?” he questioned.

       “Well my brother works for the British government and Lestrade here is a Detective Inspector with Scotland Yard.” Sherlock replied.

       Relief flooded through John. He looked down at Hamish and found that he had fallen asleep. He fought back more tears as he studied the boys face. Blinking a few times he looked back up at Sherlock.

       “When you say you aren’t here for revenge on my wife but the opposite do you mean…do you mean what I think you mean?” John asked quietly. Sherlock frowned and considered this question.

       “Mary was found a few days ago John,” Sherlock paused uncertain.

     “No don’t it’s fine, I can gather what that means.” John cut him off. Mary was dead then. Who? And if so why was he still alive? John thought disconcertedly.

     “How was Hamish found?” He asked after a short silence.

      “He was dropped off at Scotland Yard three days ago. My brother has been keeping him safe since then.” Mycroft explained.

       “Why him? Why wasn’t Harry contacted? Where is she?” John asked confused. “She’s not…she’s not..”

      “No John she is alive and well I assure you.” Mycroft replied. John sighed in relief. “She had a bit of trouble with your disappearance and well..”

      “She fell off the wagon didn’t she” John supplied.

        “I am afraid so. She is currently getting back on track and has been informed that you have been found.” Mycroft reassured.

        John nodded and dropped his head back on the bed taking in a few deep breaths. The nurses must have given him another dose of pain medicine. His eyes were becoming extremely heavy.

 

           Blinking John opened his eyes once more. He must have dozed off for a bit. Hamish was still sleeping comfortably against him, surrounded by a soft green blanket someone had tucked around his sleeping form. John looked around the room and noticed that Sherlock was seated beside the bed looking at him with intense blue-gray eyes.

           “Mycroft and Lestrade left shortly after you went out, although fair warning Mycroft will be back and will want to question you further.”

           “Question me about what?’ John asked.

            “Your captors, your wife, your escape.” Sherlock listed off.

              “Right.” John sighed. He looked Sherlock over once more. The man was dressed in nice slacks and a blue button down shirt that was wrinkled and stained here and there by something John couldn’t identify. “So are you a social worker or something?”

             “Definitely not.” Sherlock laughed at this. “I was at the Yard when Hamish came in, he took a liking to me and refused to go with anyone else. He screamed when the social worker tried to persuade him to go with her. My interfering brother decided to leave him in my care because of this.”

            “That couldn’t have been legal.” John stated.

            “Well when I said earlier that my brother worked for the British government I really should have specified that he _is_ the British government. Technically it was all legal, ethical on the other hand probably not.” Sherlock tilted his head to the side. “You don’t seem overly disturbed that your son was in the care of someone whose job has nothing to do with children.”

            “Well I probably should be but if Hamish liked you and not the social worker then you must have been the better option. He is fairly perceptive when it comes to people.” John smiled at him.

            “Your sister said the same thing.” Sherlock commented.

            “You met Harry?” John asked surprised.

            “Hm yes, stopped by to pick up some things for Hamish.” Sherlock explained.           

            “How was she?” John hesitantly asked.

            “Could have been better but give her some time and I’m sure she’ll be on the straight and narrow.” Sherlock said. “My brother got her into a facility, so it will help her get back on track faster.”

            “Well that was very generous of him.” John said surprised.

            “Hm don’t think on it, Mycroft probably owns half the facility by now.” Sherlock brushed off. 

            “What does he randomly buy rehab facilities?” John snorted.

            “Not exactly.” Sherlock replied with a pinched face. “Let’s just say he has had a lot of dealings with them.”

            John studied Sherlock’s face. He looked wary, slightly ashamed. John was willing to bet that these dealings were probably because of Sherlock. Why else would his brother take such interest?

            “What was it with you?” John asked quietly. Sherlock’s eyes snapped to his in surprise.

            “Drugs.” Sherlock replied after a while. “How did you know?”

            “Why else would your brother practically buy the facility? If I had had the money I would have done the same for Harry when she was in the worst of her addiction.” John shrugged. Sherlock nodded at this and they both lapsed into silence.

            John looked down at Hamish again and just drank in his presence. Logically John knew it had only been a little over a month, but Christ it felt like longer. He had begun to doubt he would ever get to hold him again. Hamish shifted slightly nuzzling John’s shoulder.

            “Apart from some hunger and quite a bit of emotional distress, the captors appeared to have left him unharmed.” Sherlock reassured him.

            “How was he with everything?” John asked quietly still gazing down at Hamish.

            “He was extremely distressed the first day and very distrustful of everyone apart from me. The second day was slightly better emotionally. I think being in a calm safe environment allowed him to forget for a brief moment. Seeing your sister yesterday morning however triggered another round of distress however.” Sherlock admitted.

            Their conversation was interrupted as a nurse came in to check on things. She moved to the bed checking the IV and other monitors before turning her gaze to John.

            “Now Mr. Watson, you need to be resting. You really shouldn’t have gotten out of bed earlier.” She said sternly. “One of the doctors will be in shortly to explain your condition to you but in the mean time why don’t you let your friend here take that child so you can get some rest?”

            John stiffened at the suggestion. He braced himself for a fight. This nurse looked like the type that thought her word was as good as the doctor’s and wasn’t about to take no for an answer. There is always one and of course she would be assigned to me John thought ruefully.

            “It’s Dr. Watson.” Sherlock said from behind her. The nurse turned to look at him skeptically.

            “Uh-huh sure it is. Now would you be so kind as to take this child so this man can get some much needed rest?” She ordered rudely.

            “This _is_ Dr. Watson, formally a Captain in her majesty’s army, recently held captive for a month away from his son. Just because your own marriage is falling apart and your children want to live with their father instead of you doesn’t entitle you to pass judgment on Dr. Watson. If you would be so kind as to leave I don’t think Dr. Watson or myself trust the opinions of someone who has been drinking on the job.” Sherlock retorted with a sneer.

            Shocked John watched as the nurse turned red and sputtered half finished sentences before finally giving up and leaving. John looked at Sherlock in amazement.

            “How on earth did you know that?” He asked.

            “Simple really, she’s missing a ring on her left hand but there is a clear tan line from where it once sat, ergo she’s going through a divorce. She has a bracelet that has charms with names inscribed in them, her children presumably. Then there is the way she insisted on Hamish being taken away. Why would he have to leave? He isn’t causing more harm and it is still visiting hours. Clearly she resents any father at the moment so her children must be in his custody presently.” Sherlock shrugged with a bored expression.

            “And the alcohol?” John asked curious.

            “Hm bit tricker that one. The way she looked at your charts was the first tip. She didn’t appear to actually be reading them just making the appearance to. The way her eyes kept blinking as she stared at the page indicated her vision was blurred in some manner. Then there was a small bottle tucked into her pocket that she patted a few times out of habit. Reassuring herself it’s still there. When she finally turned to me I noticed her bloodshot eyes and caught a faint scent of vodka.” Sherlock finished.

            “That is amazing! Do you do that a lot?” John asked impressed.

            “Do you really think so?” Sherlock looked at him curiously with a half a smile.

            “Of course it was! It was bloody brilliant! I’m slightly curious as to what you could pick up about me if I was just some random bloke on the street.” John grinned.

            “Well considering I already knew your name and profession before I even met you it would be a bit skewed.” Sherlock admitted. “But I have been able to deduce one thing new since being here.”

            “And what’s that?” John prompted still grinning.

            “You were wounded in action while you were deployed, your shoulder I suspect, but you have a limp as well. The limp only showed up after what you perceived as danger to have passed and the nurses where getting you back to the bed.”

            “Why do you think the shoulder?” John tested him.

            “Well I know from the callouses on your left hand that it is your dominate hand. Having to use your right hand doesn’t seem to faze you but the movements are still unnatural and uncomfortable for you. That indicates that you have injured your left hand or arm before rather than ambidextrousness. Now as you have a hospital gown on I can clearly see your arm clear of any scars or damage apart from the cast of course, so that leaves your shoulder.” Sherlock finished with a triumphant grin.

            “That is amazing.” John smiled shaking his head. “Yea it was the shoulder, left some nerve damage so I got used to using my right arm more, gotten a bit out of practice the last few years though.”

            “So I was right. What about the leg? The way you forgot the pain when we first walked into your room seemed to suggests a psychosomatic problem.” Sherlock prodded. John chuckled at this strange man.

            “You sound like my therapist. There was a bit of shrapnel taken out but for the most part it is all in my head. Even after four years of being home.” John said. “You are brilliant! I sure hope you are using that in some way and don’t have a menial government job or something.”

            “You really think that it is that amazing.” Sherlock asked in bemusement.

            “Of course it is! Not everyone can do that.” John replied, surely Sherlock must get this all the time. He must sound like a ridiculous swooning girl.

            “People don’t usually say that.” Sherlock said with a frown.

            “What do they normally say?” John asked in confusion. How could they say anything but?? He thought.

            “They usually tell me to sod off.” Sherlock replies with a smirk. “I might have been hit on a few occasions.”

            John laughs a good while at this, Sherlock chuckling quietly beside him.

            “Idiots. Pure idiots, the lot of them.” John stated with a smile.

            The door opened again this time Mycroft and the other man, Greg something or other John remembered, walked in.

            “Ah good you are awake Dr. Watson. I do hope my brother hasn’t been too much of a nuisance. He has a tendency to rub people the wrong way.” Mycroft remarked. Sherlock in turn glared at him and opened his mouth to refute the statement.

            “I think he’s brilliant.” John cut in raising his eyebrows in a challenge. Greg looked at him in surprise while Sherlock preened and smiled smugly at his brother.

            “Interesting.” Mycroft stared at him. “Well now that you are awake there is a need to debrief you on the situation at hand.”

            “At hand?? What situation?” John asked confused.

            “There are some lingering questions about your kidnapping and it seems a few potential threats.” Mycroft explains.

            John sighs looking down at Hamish. Of course they weren’t in the clear. Just survived a month in captivity by a bunch of assassin’s but of course there would be no rest. He steeled himself for the conversation and looked back up at Mycroft.

            “What do you want to know first?” He asked.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon any mistakes!
> 
> So as good as you hoped? :)


	8. A Discussion of Captivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John explains and Hamish gets pudding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this update is late! I meant to have it up a few days ago but alas life got in the way!!   
> Enjoy!

        

 

          John looked down at Hamish, who appeared to be waking slowly and waited for Mycroft’s first question. His arm had begun to fall asleep so he shifted Hamish into his lap so that his head rested against his chest.     

          “Why don’t you start with Mary.” Mycroft prompted him.

           “That does seem the logical place to start I suppose.” John sighed. “I met her when I invalided home from the service. I lucked into a job at a clinic and she was one of the nurses. We hit it off right away and a year later we married. I had no knowledge of her past until after Hamish was born.”

           “Did she tell you? Is that why she left?” Sherlock asked.

          “I guess Harry told you that huh? She didn’t tell me then no. She had been acting strangely for a while. I wrote it off as pregnancy hormones but looking back I see it as something quite different. Hamish was about two months old when she left. All she said in her note was that it was too dangerous for us if she stayed. Again I still had no idea what she meant, I still thought that she panicked about parenthood. She eventually did come back. About a year ago she waltzed back from wherever she was and pleaded understanding.”

         “Did she explain more then?” Greg asked from the corner.

         “Yes and no. She admitted that she had lied about her past, that she wasn’t who I thought she was. She said that she left because she had to take care of something so that we would no longer be in danger. Fat lot of good it did.” John snorted. “I didn’t really press her on anything until I found several guns in her apartment one day. She hinted at her previous job enough that I had a pretty good idea what she was into. Mary assured me, however, that it was over and done with.”

         “Your tone implies that you had reason to believe otherwise.” Mycroft drawled.

         “Well she might have honestly believed that at that point in time. I still didn’t trust that her past was still in the past, seems I had good reason to.”

         “Hm. Indeed.” Mycroft commented. “Do you know who she worked for?”

         “No sorry. She was always very careful to not mention any names. The men who kidnapped us were middlemen I expect.”

         “What makes you draw that conclusion?” Sherlock questioned.

         “Well for one they never mentioned Mary, never asked about her no taunts or threats really. Anytime I asked why they did something they all just replied that they had orders to do it. To me that seemed like either they were very low in the pecking order or hired out.”

         “Orders to do what?” Greg asked curiously.

          John grimaced and looked down once more at Hamish. Hamish seemed to be half awake at this point. Still not quite awake enough to register anything being said though.

         “Well uh…the men in charge of my captivity were not nearly as nice in their treatment of me as they were of Hamish.” John finally replied.

         “Did they torture you?” Mycroft asked coolly.

         “Well I don’t think you could really call it that. I had worse in Afghanistan to be honest. Really they would just rough me up a bit sometimes. They also withheld food frequently. They always filmed the beatings so I can only assume it was done to provoke Mary further.”

         “Sounds a bit like torture to me.” Greg mumbled his eyes rose in doubt. John just smiled and shrugged a bit at this. To him it really hadn’t been all that bad. The real torture had been not knowing what was happening to Hamish.

         “So your escape.” Mycroft stated.

         “What about it?” John countered.

         “Could you walk us through what happened?” Greg urged.

         “Well the men had been a bit testy that week. I assume that Mary was being difficult about something or other because they carried out a few more sessions than normal. They had taken a break in between one of the beatings and had left me on the floor. I overheard them talking about Unit 1 and how they couldn’t get through to them. One guy suggested that if they still had no contact by morning that headquarters should be informed. From this I inferred that Unit 1 was where they had Hamish. The next morning they still had had no word and the men were getting antsier. That’s when they took me for another session. They were just about to start when one of them received a call. I was able to piece enough together to know that something had happened and that my captors were being called to ‘clean up’. I wasn’t going to go down without a fight and luckily I made it out.” John finished.

        “How?” Sherlock asked his face full of curiosity. “How did you get out of your bonds and take down three men?”

        “Well ever since Mary had come back and I learned the basics of her past I had made a point to always be armed and prepared.”

        “Surely they took away those things when they took you.” Greg scoffed.

        “Oh yea of course, they confiscated my knife and gun.” John smiled. “They missed a few things however. I still had a lock pick, needle and a small scalpel blade.”

        “How did you manage to keep those?” Sherlock said incredulously.

        “By hiding them in plain sight.” John chuckled and then further explained when the three men in front of him still looked baffled. “I had sewed one of each item into every hem of every pant that I own months ago. So naturally they never found them.”

         “What on earth made you think to do that?” Greg looked impressed.

         “It was a trick an old commanding officer once recommended. He said you could never know when you might be captured but you could always be prepared. Harry thought I was just paranoid but I didn’t trust Mary’s word enough to feel safe without a few tricks up my sleeve.” John explained repressing a chuckle at the looks on the other men’s faces.

       John was saved from a few more questions briefly while another nurse came in. This nurse was much younger and smiled when she saw Hamish. She set a tray of food on the table and pushed the table over John’s bed.

       “Lunch time for the patient. Light fare today seeing as you probably aren’t up to much else.” She winked and left the room quietly.

       John surveyed the food, dry toast a bit of fruit and some chicken broth. He smiled when he saw an extra pudding cup, presumable put there for Hamish.

      “Hamish, are you Hungry?” John asked quietly patting his son’s back. Hamish opened his eyes completely and looked up at John. He smiled and hugged John even harder. “I could use some help with the chocolate pudding.” He tempted the little boy.

        Hamish released John’s torso and turned around to face the food. His eyes lit up at the pudding cups. John slowed the little boys hands as he eagerly reached for the treat.

        “Have a little bit of toast and fruit first ok?” John instructed. Hamish looked up at him and pouted. John chuckled before adding, “I need help with those too Hamish not just the pudding.”

        Hamish gave in finally and picked up a slice of toast to nibble. He was halfway through the piece when he noticed the other three men in the room. John watched as Hamish picked up another slice of toast and held it out to Sherlock.

         Sherlock shook his head minutely repressing a small smile. John watched fascinated as his son frowned and shook the toast at Sherlock. Sherlock sighed and accepted the toast. John’s attention shifted to Greg as the other man began laughing hysterically.

         “Oh my god I’m sorry but that never gets old!” Greg chortled.

         “What never gets old?” John asked confused.

          “Gregory is referring to the fact that my brother tends neglect the needs of his own body most of the time, food included. Since Hamish has been under his care he seems to have made it his mission to fix that.” Mycroft smiled slightly.

            John looked back at Sherlock who was scowling over at his brother. John looked Sherlock over properly and noted for the first time that the tall man was noticeably underweight for his height.

           “Should I call the nurse back to bring more?” John inquired. Greg laughed a bit more and Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

            “That will not be necessary.” Sherlock grumbled taking a vicious bit of his toast in retaliation.

            “So, John,” Mycroft cleared his throat. “I believe we were discussing your escape. So you used the scalpel blade to cut your bonds?”

            “Yea. When I was first placed in my room I carefully retrieved the hidden items, with my back to the camera of course, and hid them in my room. Anytime they took me out of the room I made sure to have the blade in the palm of my hand just in case.” John explained.

            “And the men you kil-” Greg stopped looking down at Hamish.

            “The three men you got away from, tell us about that.” Sherlock finished.

            “Most of that was just blind luck I’ll admit.” John said sheepishly. “Adrenaline, heat of the moment and all that. In my defense they were trying to kill me.” John looked to Greg.

            “Don’t worry John no charges will be brought against you.” Mycroft stated calmly. “Now the men out side that room, did you dispose of them also?”

            “No!” John and Sherlock said at the same time. John looked to Sherlock in surprise.

            “How do you know that?” John inquired.

            “When I examined the scene it was clear that someone else shot those men. The door to the ‘session’ room was forced from the outside. The kills were much different as well. One of the victims was killed as they faced the entrance not the hallway where you would have come from. A separate killer is the only thing that made sense.” Sherlock explained brushing a few toast crumbs from his pants.

            “That was amazing!” John exclaimed smiling at Sherlock who seemed slightly puzzled but pleased by his reaction.

            “Why did you not explain this sooner Sherlock?” Mycroft scolded.

            “You didn’t ask brother mine.” Sherlock sneered.

            “Sirlock!” Hamish’s voice drew all of their attention. The little boy was holding a slice of apple towards him. Sherlock took it without question this time, the look on his face daring anyone to comment. John rubbed Hamish’s back affectionately. God how he had missed him, John thought.

            “Well I am afraid I don’t know whoever killed those other men. When I escaped the door was still shut firmly in place. The men usually made a bit of noise during sessions so I don’t suppose anyone thought anything of our little struggle. Is that the last question?” John directed his question at Mycroft.

            “For now. Your safe house is being prepared. Once you are discharged you and Hamish both will be safely transported there.”

            “Wait what? Safe house??? Why??” John looked at each of the men in turn. “Am I missing something?”

            “Well whoever kidnapped you and Hamish are more than likely looking to tie up loose ends. Not to mention the second party that took care of Mary and presumably rescued Hamish and attempted to rescue you.” Sherlock elucidated. “A safe house is probably a wise idea.”

            “Right well I don’t like the idea of being locked up some place and given no privacy. I was just in that situation for a month for Christ’s sake!” John said exasperated.

            “Nonetheless it is necessary. I assure that you will have every comfort and protection.” Mycroft droned.

            “Stay with Sirlock.” Hamish demanded with a frown. John looked at Sherlock who looked rather taken aback.

            “Why would you want that?” Greg snorted.

            “Why not? Hamish is comfortable there, Mrs. Hudson likes him and Mycroft has enough surveillance in or around 221B that it would probably be safe enough for the Queen.” Sherlock puffed up.

            “Well the idea is not outside of the realm of possibilities.” Mycroft considered. “Does this suit you Dr. Watson?”

            “Well I guess so. As long as Hamish is comfortable there and will be in no danger.” John nodded.

            “The arrangements will be made then.” Mycroft agreed before turning to leave. Greg nodded at John with a smile then turned and followed Mycroft out.

            Hamish hummed in satisfaction. He reached for the pudding cup and looked up at John. John smiled and opened the package for him and handing him a spoon. John looked at Sherlock once more.

            “I suppose I should say thanks for putting us up, not that you really agreed to it.” John said with a smile. “Mycroft didn’t even ask if you were fine with it.”

            “He rarely does.” Sherlock drawled with the quirk of a brow.

            “Sirlock is fun! An Miss Huson makes yummy biscuits.” Hamish informed John.

            “What?” John asked noticing the look of slight astonishment on Sherlock’s face.

            “That might be the first time anyone has put my name and fun in the same sentence in a positive way.” Sherlock answered. John laughed a little at this shaking his head.

            “Huson?” John asked Sherlock after a bit.

            “Hudson. She’s the Landlady.” Sherlock explained his eyes still fixed on Hamish. John nodded and picked up his own piece of toast.

 

 

 

 

            Sherlock wasn’t sure how to categorize John Watson. The man continued to surprise and impress him. John liked his deductions, wasn’t afraid of Mycroft and seemed to have some impressive defense and attack skills despite the ‘adrenaline’ excuse. John himself seemed rather unassuming but had shown considerable intelligence for a normal person and a rather nonchalant attitude towards violence that was rather at odds with his kind face.

            Then there was Hamish on top of that to consider. Sherlock found that he had come to quite like the little boy in the few days he had known him. He liked him better than almost all of the other inconsequential people that Sherlock had to put up with on a daily basis.

            Sherlock wasn’t entirely positive that having John and Hamish stay with him for an indefinite period would work out in the long run it would however give him ample time to study them more. Sherlock found this idea quite appealing if he was honest.

            “So what do you do? You never did tell me.” John asked as he munched on his lunch.

            “I am a Consulting Detective. Only one in the world in fact I invented the Job.” Sherlock replied.

            “So how does that work exactly?” John prodded Sherlock to continue.

            “When the police are in over their heads, which is the majority of the time, they consult me. Occasionally I get a private client but I work mostly with Scotland Yard.”

            “Is that how you were pulled into all of this?” John asked.

            “Hm yes, I was called to Mary’s apartment to look over the scene. The fact that I was there when Hamish was dropped off was pure coincidence however.” John grimaced at the mention of Mary. “You don’t seem overly upset at her passing.” Sherlock stated.

            “Well I am sorry that she is gone but it is more like the grief of an acquaintance passing rather than a family member. I tried to let her back in but I couldn’t get over her deception really.” John conceded with a shrug.

            Sherlock considered this quietly. John appeared to have latent trust issues despite his easy and accepting manner.

            “Wanna hand me my chart so I can review the official report of the damage?” John pleaded. Sherlock stood and unhooked the chart from the bottom of the bed before passing it over to John.

            “The concussion and dehydration were the worst of it. I expect you will be discharged tomorrow as long as nothing else pops up.” Sherlock assured him.

            “You read my chart?” John blinked at him in surprise.

            “You were asleep. I was bored.” Sherlock responded. He watched John’s eyebrows shoot up. “Was that not good?”

            “To someone else it might be considered a bit not good yea. At least ask for permission next time.” John chuckled. “I am a little surprised you even needed to read it with your deduction skills.”

            “I didn’t need it.” Sherlock scoffed. “It is nice to have things confirmed however.”

            “Right.” John smiled. “So what is this 221B like?”

            “It has a skull!” Hamish exclaimed happily to his father, chocolate pudding smeared on his chin. 

            “A skull?” John looked to Sherlock in confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit shorter than usual, next update will be a little longer to make up for it! 
> 
> I can't tell you how much I appreciate all of your support for this fic! 150 + subscribers and almost 200 kudos! You guys are truly amazing!!! I had no idea when I started this that it would be so well liked. :) 
> 
> Next chapter get prepared for quite a bit of fluffiness with Hamish. :)


	9. Thunderstorms and Hot Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John comfort Hamish.

            “A skull Sherlock?” John repeated when Sherlock failed to respond

            “Uh yes I hadn’t realized he noticed that.” Sherlock coughed pointedly looking away.

            “Why do you have a skull?” John asked. To Sherlock’s surprise he didn’t sound disgusted or offended.

            “I suppose you could say I use it as a sounding board.” Sherlock replied with a shrug.

            “Typically sounding boards talk back to you, you know.” John smirked at him.

            “And therein lies the appeal of the skull.” Sherlock smiled back.

            “So you basically talk to yourself.” John said smiling as Hamish giggled in his arms. Sherlock rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. John was distracted by whatever he was about to say next by Hamish tugging on his arm. Sherlock watched as John raised his eyes in question.

            “I got to potty.” Hamish announced. John looked up at Sherlock.

            “Come on Hamish, I’ll take you.” Sherlock said standing up. He watched as Hamish looked from him to John several times. “John won’t go anywhere I promise.”

            “I’ll be right here till you get back.” John affirmed with a nod. With this Hamish smiled and then crawled over John to Sherlock. John winced at the movement.

            Sherlock picked the little boy up and carried him out to the hall holding the door for a nurse as she entered John’s room.

 

 

            John watched as Sherlock tenderly picked up his son. He could see the bond that had been formed between the two in just a few days. It reassured him to know that Hamish had been in good care despite Sherlock’s eccentric ways. John kept his eyes on the pair as they left only turning to acknowledge the nurse once the door had shut.

            “Well Mr. Watson it seems as if Mr. Holmes as arranged for another room for you while you recuperate.” The nurse informed him with a smile. It was the same nurse who had brought his lunch to him earlier he noticed.

            “Well seeing as I plan on checking myself out tomorrow I don’t see that that it is necessary nurse Carter.” He said reading her nametag. She tilted her head in surprise and her eyes found the chart still in John’s hands.

            “Oh but Mr. Watson I believe your doctor would like for you to stay another day or so to see that your dehydration and nutrition are back on track.” She explained with a worried expression.

            “I understand his worries but I assure you I shall be fine. I am a doctor myself so I know the risks and I know what I need to do to get well.” He said smiling as her eyebrows went up in shock.

            “Oh! Well I guess that’s a horse of a different color. If you’re sure about it then I’ll inform your doctor. I should let you know he will probably try to talk you out of it.” She smiled politely.

            “Well I appreciate it Ms. Carter but I’m quite sure.” He reassured her.

            “Please call me Denise. So what happened to you if you don’t mind my asking? I’ve seen a lot of men in suits hanging about your door and it all looks fairly interesting.” She asks stepping forward. “Are you a secret agent on top of being a doctor?”

            “No no nothing like that.” John laughed at this handing the chart back to her so that she could make a few notes. “Just a normal doctor I swear. I don’t really know what I am allowed to say other than I was detained for about a month against my will.” He explained with a small smile.

            “Oh.” Her eyes grew big.

            “All the suits were here for my statement on the matter.” He explained further.

            “Are you sure you aren’t a secret agent?” She asked her smile returning. John laughed and shook his head.

            Sherlock and Hamish walked through the door at this point both looking slightly affronted at the presence of the nurse. Sherlock walked over to the bed and placed Hamish back in John’s lap. Hamish in turn smiled up at Sherlock before turning his attention to the nurse.

            “And who is this handsome young man?” Denise cooed at him. Hamish shrank back into John clutching the fabric of John’s hospital gown.

            “This is Hamish, my son. Hamish this is Nurse Denise.” John introduced them gently rubbing Hamish’s back in reassurance. “He is a bit shy of people just now.” John explained.

            “Well I shall try not to scare him to much then. He is precious.” She commented her eyes moving to Sherlock.

            “And this is a friend, Sherlock Holmes, he has been looking after Hamish for a couple of days.” John explained. Sherlock shook her hand and then moved to sit down, suddenly becoming very interested in the contents of his phone.

            “Hamish seems to have taken after you entirely. Is your wife very disappointed in that?” She asked politely hanging the chart back up.

            “Hm if she was I don’t expect I’ll ever know now.” He explained looking down at Hamish. Mary really wasn’t something he wanted to talk about just now, luckily Denise seemed to sense his reticence and let it drop.

“Can I get you anything else to eat?” She inquired moving to clear the tray of food.

            “No but a some tea would be a godsend.” John replied and the looked to Sherlock. “Sherlock would you like anything?”

            “Coffee.” He stated simply not looking up from his phone.

            “I’ll get right on that.” She smiled once more at Hamish before leaving.

            “She likes you.” Sherlock stated as soon as the door had shut.

            “She was just being polite.”

            “Hm no. I expect you’ll have her number before we leave. She was clearly interested. She took no more notice of me once you explained that I was a friend. When she asked about your wife she became more obvious.” Sherlock replied.

            “For all she knows my wife is on her way.” John defended.

            “Could be but she is banking on not. No wedding ring on your finger, she glanced at it several times by the way. Seeing as you currently have a cast on that hand it could have been removed, but then there was the way you talked about your wife. I should say didn’t talk about her. Your comment while not definitive either way implied that she was no longer in the picture. I am sure as soon as she knows for sure you will receive her number.”

            “You don’t know that that is true.” John shook his head. Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued to peruse his phone.

 

 

            The next day John had to fight a smile when Sherlock was proven correct. Shortly after lunch he had gotten changed into some clothes that one of Mycroft’s men had passed off to the nurses. He had found in one of the pockets there was indeed a piece of paper with Denise’s number. Sherlock smirked when he had noticed it. John shook his head and laughed quietly.

            With Hamish in his arms he followed Sherlock out of the hospital and into a cab. Despite hospital protocol no one had commented when the little boy and tall detective had stayed over night, for which John was extremely grateful. He was fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to let Hamish out of his sight for the next year.

            When the cab finally stopped Sherlock led the way into the apartment. John followed at a slower pace protecting Hamish from the rain that had begun to fall.

            “There is a second bedroom upstairs. Mrs. Hudson got it ready for you yesterday.” Sherlock explained as they made their way upstairs. “I should have probably warned you that-”

            Sherlock stopped midsentence as he opened the door to the flat. John peered around him and found Mycroft waiting for them.

            “Mycroft.” Sherlock sneered stepping inside. John followed looking around.

            The place was actually pretty nice. Sherlock had a strange collection of items here and there but the place was surprisingly neat. John noticed a plastic box filled with some of Hamish’s toys to the side. There was a decent kitchen to the right that looked as if it had been renovated recently.

            “Mycroft what did you do!” Sherlock exclaimed looking around with wide eyes. He glared once more at his brother before sweeping around the corner to the kitchen.

            “Really Sherlock always so dramatic. It’s only a bit of cleaning.” Mycroft rolled his eyes.

            “You cleaned out the fridge! What is all this nonsense?” Sherlock called in outrage from the kitchen.

            “Food brother dear.” Mycroft replied standing up and straightening his jacket before addressing John, “I had some of your things brought from your sisters apartment for you, they are upstairs.”

            “Thank you.” John smiled gratefully moving aside as Mycroft strolled to the door.

            “My experiments Mycroft!” Sherlock yelled.

            “Try not to shoot him Dr. Watson, my mother would be most put out.” Mycroft drawled as he walked down the stairs.

            John set a squirming Hamish down and moved to join Sherlock in the kitchen. Sherlock was staring at the open fridge, his hands gripping the sides fiercely.

            “Sherlock?” John asked quietly.

            “All of my experiments gone, I’m going to kill him.” Sherlock vowed his voice seething in anger.

            “Experiments?” John inquired. “I thought you were a detective.”

            “I am. In order to gain the most knowledge from any crime scene I conduct my own experiments to prepare for any eventuality. You never know when knowing how long it takes for certain types of mold to accumulate on dead tissue might be pertinent. I had been waiting on the results of a few of them for months.” Sherlock slammed the fridge closed.

            John raised his eyebrows at this. He supposed it made sense and he could certainly understand Sherlock’s outrage. John was somewhat grateful to Mycroft for cleaning it up anyhow. He decided it was best to not comment and went back to see what Hamish was up to.

            He found Hamish playing quietly on the floor with a few cars. John sat down in one of the chairs, a comfortable overstuffed red one, and watched Hamish play. He noticed a half finished puzzle on the floor and smiled.

            “He started that yesterday.” Sherlock supplied noticing John’s gaze. John nodded without commenting. Sherlock moved to sit across from John still looking rather aggravated. “He seems rather young for an such an exercise.”

            “He’s very good at puzzles.” John smiled. “Doing a puzzle was something that I picked up when I came home from Afghanistan. I would wake up in the night in terror unable to go back to sleep. I started doing puzzles to focus my mind and tire myself out enough to fall asleep. When I was helping Harry get sober she picked up the same habit to get her mind off of the cravings. I think we went through 25 puzzles one week.”

            “So Hamish learned to do it as well.” Sherlock surmised.

            “Yes.” John nodded. “At first he just watched but he soon caught on and became quite good at it.”

            “Interesting.” Sherlock concluded.

            John’s gaze moved to the windows and noticed that the rain had picked up outside and the sky had darkened considerably from when they first arrived. Frowning he looked down at Hamish. Sure enough the little boy had slowed his playing in favor of watching the window with growing fear.

            John stood and carefully picked Hamish up before turning to sit on the couch. John had just settled when the first rumble of thunder shook the sky above. Hamish’s hands clenched tightly in John’s shirt even after the thunder had dissipated.

            “It’s alright. Your alright.” John calmed him.

            “What is it?’ Sherlock asked confusion evident in his voice.

            “It’s the storm.” John explained looking up at Sherlock. “He doesn’t like the noise.”

            “Can I do anything?”

            “Do you have a movie we can put on? It helps to distract him.” John asked.

            “I don’t watch movies.” Sherlock stated.

            “You have some of his toys. Is there any chance Harry sent along movies as well?” John asked in a last ditch effort. Sherlock’s eyes lit up as he hopped from his chair.

            “I can check.”

            John waited hugging Hamish closer when another wave of thunder erupted. Sherlock returned holding a number of things.

            “I found these in the suitcase Harry packed.” He explained holding up a few DVDs.

            “Thank god.” John sighed in relief watching as Sherlock placed a laptop on the coffee table before handing the DVDs over. John picked up the one on the top and popped it into the computer while eyeing the other items in Sherlock’s hands. “What else do you have there?”

            “Oh it’s the blanket and stuffed toy he’s been sleeping with.” Sherlock explained looking sheepish. “I thought they might be a comfort.”

            “That was good thinking.” John smiled. He had seen Sherlock act closed off and reserved as well as like a petulant child but it was clear he had a good heart and he certainly seemed to like Hamish. Sherlock passed the blanket and toy to John who examined the new toy. “An elephant. That’s his favorite animal.”

            “Hm yes I know.” Sherlock replied closing the window curtains.

            John turned Hamish around and chuckled when Hamish latched onto the elephant. Of course Sherlock would know Hamish’s preferences. John reached forward to play the movie pausing as Sherlock settled back into his chair.

            “You aren’t going to watch with us?” John questioned him.

            “Not really my area.”

            “Pwease.” Hamish pleaded softly clutching the elephant closer to his chest.

            “Very well.” Sherlock sighed dramatically before coming to settle beside John. Hamish crawled to sit in between them as John leaned forward and pressed play.

            “What is this about anyway?” Sherlock asked in a bored tone.

            “Your kidding right?” John looked at him in astonishment. “It’s Robin Hood Sherlock.”

            Sherlock shrugged and turned his attention to the screen. John shook his head and followed suit. As they watched the movie Hamish focused less on the noise outside allowing him to calm down. Sherlock entertained John by commenting every now and then on the inaccuracy of some event or another. John had to remind him it was a children’s movie after a particularly long rant about how a snake would not be able to float about in the air with it’s head in a balloon.

            By the time the credits rolled the storm had still not abated so John changed the DVD’s out without comment.

            “What’s this one then?” Sherlock asked.

            “The Great Mouse Detective.” John smiled.

            “A mouse detective? How preposterous.” Sherlock snorted.

            “Ssh!” Hamish warned from in between them. Sherlock scowled but said nothing. John chuckled slightly already eager to hear Sherlock’s comments on this one.

            “Woo hoo, Sherlock.” A voice called from the stairwell.

             A very short time later an elderly woman bearing a tray of mugs entered. She carefully looked the three over and raised an eyebrow at the movie that was playing but apparently decided to not comment on it.

“I’m Mrs. Hudson dear, I thought you might like something hot to drink with this nasty weather outside.”

            “John Watson.” John introduced himself while reaching forward to pause the movie. “That was very thoughtful mam.”

            “Oh it was nothing dear. I have a nice pot of soup cooking downstairs if you’d like to join me for dinner later. Don’t become accustomed to it though, I’m your landlady not your housekeeper.” She smiled at him setting the tray on the coffee table carefully.

            “Tea?” Sherlock inquired looking at the tray.

            “No, I thought Hamish might like another treat.” Mrs. Hudson smiled and turned to leave. “See you for dinner dears.”

            John noted the disgruntled expression on Sherlock’s face when Mrs. Hudson had informed him that there was no tea. He leaned forward and found that she had left three mugs of hot chocolate instead. John picked up the cup that contained slightly less hot chocolate and twice as many marshmallows and handed it to Hamish.

            “Careful it’s hot.” He warned. Hamish carefully cupped the mug humming happily as he sipped the chocolate. John handed Sherlock a mug before taking a sip of his own.

            “What is it?” Sherlock inquired peering down at the liquid with a dubious expression.

            “Yummy.” Hamish replied before John could explain.

            Sherlock considered Hamish briefly before taking a sip. John suppressed a chuckle at Sherlock’s delighted expression and un-paused the movie.

           The three sipped their treats in silence while the movie continued. John was silently counting the minutes until Sherlock piped in with a disparaging comment. Even with the hot chocolate as a distraction he didn’t have to wait long.

           “A father kidnapping? Seems unwise considering recent circumstances.” Sherlock comment dryly.

           “Considering he has seen this movie close to a hundred times I don’t think I’ll worry.” John rolled his eyes.

           Sherlock grunted but otherwise made no response. Sherlock was relatively quiet for the rest of the movie only making one other comment about how inept the character of Dr. Dawson was. John couldn’t help but agree. He himself had always been personally offended at the character that he shared his profession with.

            By the end of the movie the storm had moved on. Hamish crawled from the couch to scamper over to his puzzle once more, no longer frightened.

           “No comment Sherlock?” John asked as he placed the now empty mugs back on the tray.

           “It was barely tolerable.” Sherlock sniffed. “I will require more marshmallows next time.”

            “Next time?” John chuckled.

            “Is it typical for children to be afraid of thunderstorms?” Sherlock changed the subject.

            “Yes it is actually quite common. I’m not overly fond of them myself to be honest.” John admitted.

            “Why?” Sherlock inquired peering at John.

            “Hmm the war.” John said simply knowing Sherlock would infer what he meant.

            “Flashbacks?” Sherlock questioned.

            “Sometimes. Not as frequently anymore thank god.”

            “How long were you stationed there?” Sherlock hesitantly asked.

            “Three years. I was supposed to be over there for another two but I got wounded on a mission sending me home.” John said sadly. Being shot and the subsequent discharge from the army had been one of the largest disappointments of his life, succeeded only by Mary’s deception. 

            “Mission? I thought you were an army doctor?” Sherlock quizzed his voice full of curiosity.

            “I was. I had been stationed over there for two years in a field hospital. I was then moved to an elite team that specialized in extractions.”

            “Why would they do that?” Sherlock asked surprised.

            “Well one, their medical officer was killed in action and they needed a replacement and two I volunteered.” John explained patiently.

            “Why?” Sherlock sounded incredulous.

            “To get away.” John said simply his tone implying that he would not explain any further.

            Maybe one day he would tell Sherlock but not today. John liked the man immensely but he still wasn’t ready to divulge a past that he himself really didn’t want to deal with, not yet anyway.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! 
> 
> So I am going to *try* to get up another update sometime next week but please don't panic if it doesn't happen. I recently landed a job that requires me to relocate to the other side of the country, so a lot of my time next week will be spent driving across the US.(39 hours of driving...yay) This means that updates might be a bit disrupted for a week or two but I am going to try to finish up the next chapter so that you have something to read next week. I am not making any definite promises though. Once I get settled updates will come regular again I promise! 
> 
> As always I hope you enjoyed this bit. I did enjoy writing it even if it did take a little time to get out.   
> If you haven't ever seen the great mouse detective you should go watch it. right now! it is one of the most underrated disney movies ever. Again forgive me for my mistakes. One of these days I might get around to fixing them. I do promise that Hamish will begin to talk more soon and get prepared for the yarder's reaction as well. :) 
> 
> Love you all!


	10. New cases and Curious Three Year olds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes to visit his sister and Sherlock answers some questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Driving across the country was more exhausting than I thought it would be. To make up for it here is an extra long chapter!

           

 

 

           Dinner with Mrs. Hudson had been rather nice John reflected as he trudged upstairs behind Sherlock. The soup she had made had been wonderful, even if he could only eat a small portion of it at the moment. The elderly woman was very sweet and took no nonsense from Sherlock, which spoke of a long relationship between the two.      

“Play! Play!!” Hamish cried as he raced into the sitting room. John and Sherlock followed behind him watching as the little boy ran eagerly to his toy bin.

            “Oh no. Now that you have had your dinner time for a bath and then bed.” John replied tiredly.

            John steered him towards the bathroom, Hamish pouting all the way making John chuckle. Once there it took John relatively no time to get Hamish in the bath and clean having perfected bath time long ago. It did take him a little longer than normal, the hazard of having one wrist in a cast. Once Hamish was thoroughly cleaned John turned to grab a towel and found Sherlock standing in the doorway holding Hamish’s pj’s.

            “How do you stay so dry? And with a cast on as well?” Sherlock asked looking John over from top to bottom.

            “Lots of practice.” John chuckled wrapping a towel around the little boy. John then took the offered Pjs and pulled them on Hamish’s squiggling body. He no sooner had pulled the shirt on when Hamish ran around him back to the sitting room.

            John and Sherlock followed and found Hamish rummaging around in his toy bin again.

            “Why don’t you go shower yourself? I’ll keep an eye on him.” Sherlock commented moving to sit on the couch.

            John nodded and smiled gratefully. He moved upstairs and found the bedroom Sherlock had told him of earlier. It was a nice sized room and had been recently cleaned. There was a double bed, which would work for a while John thought. Soon though he might consider trying to get a smaller bed in here for Hamish. John still had nightmares on occasion and didn’t want to wake Hamish if he could help it. He spotted a suitcase on top of the desk and walked over to retrieve some clothes. On top of the suitcase was a visitor form for a rehab facility. Ah, this must be the place Harriet is at, John thought. Reading carefully he noted that patients were allowed visitors once every two weeks and it seemed tomorrow as his only chance to see her until the next day came around.

            Putting the paper aside to fill out later John opened the case and found an old army t-shirt, pants and some sweats before heading back downstairs. He would need to find a way to wrap his cast before he attempted a shower.

 

 

 

 

            Sherlock sat on the sofa and watched as Hamish dug through his toys. The little boy was much recovered from his earlier fright from the storm but was clearly fighting the sleep that was sure to overtake him soon. His mobile buzzed in his pocket and after fishing it out he found a message from Lestrade.

           

            _You think you could come by the yard tomorrow? I have a few cases I think are connected and want your opinion._

 

He huffed before typing out a reply. It probably was a boring case but after days of stagnation he needed to do anything.

 

 

            I suppose so _._ \- SH

 

 

            Sherlock turned as he heard John on the stairs once more. John stopped in the doorway with his clothes clutched in one hand.

           “Do you have any bags or plastic I can wrap around my cast?” John asked.

            Sherlock nodded and waltzed into the kitchen to find something appropriate. He grabbed some tape as well and headed back to John. John held out his hand for the items and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

           “Really John, you have your dominate hand in a cast. It really makes more sense if you let me see to it.” He explained pulling John’s arm to him and effectively encasing it in plastic.

           “Uh, well thanks.” John stuttered watching as Sherlock worked. “So there was a form upstairs to visit Harry. It seems that tomorrow is the only day I can see her for another two weeks. Do you think you can watch Hamish while I go?”

          “Can’t you take him with you?” Sherlock paused looking up at John.

          “Well I could but there is some things I’d like to talk over with her that I would rather he weren’t around for.” John explained.

           “I told Lestrade I would go by the Yard tomorrow to help with a case.” Sherlock stated unsure.

          “That’s alright!” John’s expression cleared. “Just take him with you. If we are both still in some sort of danger as you believe what better place for him to be than in a police department?”

          Sherlock considered it for a moment while finishing up taping the plastic around John’s cast.

         “Won’t he become rather bored?” He asked after a while.

         “I’ll just put a few toys and some coloring books in a bag for him. He should be fine with that.” John said.

        “If you are sure that he will be sufficiently occupied and you have no problem with me taking him then I suppose I don’t see why not.” He turned and settled himself back on the sofa.

        “Thanks Sherlock.” John smiled before retreating down the hall to the bathroom.

 

 

 

 

            John reviewed the conversation as he showered. He could tell that Sherlock was trying to adjust to sharing his flat with two new people, one of those a child. He knew that Sherlock liked Hamish but he could also sense that the detective was still rather unsure of himself where the little boy was concerned.

            He finished up in the shower quickly not trusting the plastic around his cast to hold up for long, despite Sherlock’s expert wrapping skills. He dried himself on and awkwardly pulled on his clothes.

            Walking back into the sitting room he stopped and took in the site before him. Hamish was curled up in Sherlock’s lap dead asleep. Sherlock was flipping through a children’s book with a look of disdain on his face. There were a few more books on the sofa next to him.

            “Good read Sherlock?” John asked quietly. Sherlock looked up briefly before looking back at the children’s book in his hands.

            “These are terrible. The author forgoes proper grammar and makes up his own words. No wonder children take forever to learn the proper way to speak.” Sherlock spit out. “Ham John. Green ham and green eggs, utterly ridiculous. As if there was such a thing.”

            “It’s not supposed to makes sense it’s supposed to be entertaining.” John chuckles as Sherlock tosses the book to the side still careful to not wake Hamish.

            “It can be entertaining and not be filled with errors.” Sherlock scoffed.

            “Going to write your own children’s book?” He asked with a smirk. Sherlock rolled his eyes and then glanced down at Hamish.

            “He brought them to me and asked me to read them. I didn’t realize until I was halfway through the last one he had fallen asleep.” Sherlock looks at Hamish his eyes softening.

            “Well it is rather late for him.”

            “John are you sure you want him to come with me tomorrow? While I never would actively show him anything there is always the possibility that he might see something gruesome by accident.” Sherlock asked looking into John’s eyes with uncertainty. The expression took John by surprise. Sherlock had never seemed doubtful of himself and at times was a bit to arrogant of himself. John knew that and had only met the man a day ago.

            “Sherlock you will be fine. You seemed to cope well enough before I was found. Visiting hours are only until three so I’ll join you as soon as I can.” John assured him. “Hamish is perfectly comfortable around you almost alarmingly so considering the short time you’ve been with him.

            “What do you mean?” Sherlock asked curiously.

            “Well let’s just say I have only seen Hamish fall asleep in the laps of two other people, Harry and myself. He wasn’t even this comfortable around Mary and she was his mother.” John explained sitting down on the far end of the sofa. He watched as Sherlock considered this.

            “He hasn’t asked about her since he wandered into the police office.” Sherlock stated.

            “Well I’m honestly not that surprised. Mary tried hard to be apart of his life, really she did. She couldn’t seem to connect with him though. He liked her well enough, but he seemed to view her as a he might a teacher or babysitter. I think as he got older he would have gotten closer to her but as it stands he only knew her a year.”

            “Perhaps he would have.” Sherlock mused.

            “Here let me take him upstairs.” John reached for Hamish. “I’m completely knackered as well.”

            Sherlock shifted so John could pick the sleeping boy up. He watched as John slowly made his way upstairs silently considering all that John had said.

 

 

 

 

            John woke bright and early in the morning. He stretched and opened his eyes remembering where he was. He looked over and found Hamish had gone. Trying not to panic he grabbed his dressing gown and headed downstairs. He found Hamish seated in the kitchen giggling at Sherlock. Breathing a sigh of relief John entered the kitchen and found Sherlock standing over the stove.

            “What’s so funny?” John asked looking down at Hamish.

            “Sirlock making pancakes.” Hamish explained helpfully still giggling. John looked up at the detective who had turned around. Sherlock’s dressing gown was dusted with flower and there was a smudge of batter on his check. He was scowling down at the pan in his hand.

            “Having a bit of trouble there?” John suppressed a chuckle.

            “If it weren’t for this infernal stove I would be fine! How anyone can control the heat enough to cook anything is beyond me.” Sherlock snarled. “The ring stand for my Bunsen burner wouldn’t support a pan of this size. If it had I would have no difficulty I assure you.”

            “Have you considered buying a gas stove?” John smiled. Sherlock’s brow knit together as he looked at John in puzzlement.

            “They make those?” he asked finally. At this John did laugh and moved around the table.

            “Yes. Here let me take over, even with one hand I doubt I could do worse.” John chuckled scraping the burnt pancake into the trash.

            Sherlock huffed but made no other complaint. John quickly wiped the pan clean carefully and set to work. In no time he had a stack of decently made pancakes on the table. John prepared a few for Hamish, carefully controlling how much syrup he put on it. After settling the plate in front of Hamish John looked around for Sherlock.

            “Sherlock breakfast!” He called.

            “Not hungry John.” Sherlock announced as he strode down the hall dressed in a suit.

            “Why were you making pancakes then?” John asked confused.

            “Hamish said he wanted them.” Sherlock explained and attempted to move around John.

            “Oh well, you will have to eat some anyway.” John guided him to sit at the table. “I didn’t know so I cooked enough for three.”

            “Sirlock eat! Daddy makes yummy pancakes!!” Hamish exclaimed.

            Sherlock looked at each of them in turn, mutiny clear on his face. John set a plate down in front of him with a glare.

            “You will be watching a hyperactive three year old today Sherlock. You’ll need the energy, no arguments.” John firmly stated sitting down to dig in as well.

            “Food slows me down.” Sherlock complained. John rolled his eyes and placed the syrup in front of him.

            After a bit more protest Sherlock conceded and ate one pancake before declaring himself full. John left the plates in the sink and decided to wash up later. He turned and motioned to a bouncing Hamish.

            “Come on then, lets get you dressed.” He ushered the little boy upstairs.

            John quickly found Hamish’s things already folded neatly in the dresser. He talked calmly to Hamish as he pulled a shirt and then sweater on him.

            “Now you are going to go with Sherlock today ok? Daddy is going to go see Aunt Harry and then he will join you.”

            “Why?” Hamish asked cocking his head to the side.

            “Because Aunt Harry is sick and needs daddy’s help.”

            “Why do I have to stay with Sirlock? Why can’t I come with you?” Hamish blinked owlishly up at him.

            “Because someone has to look after Sherlock right?” John explained smiling as Hamish got a determined look on his face. “Right now you pop downstairs and I’ll be down in just a bit.”

            John chuckled as Hamish scampered away. The best way to get Hamish to cooperate was to give him a task. Couldn’t hurt Sherlock either really. John dressed quickly then set about finding a bag to send with Sherlock and Hamish. He settled on a small rugsack he’d used to carry his medical supplies in the army. John wasn’t entirely sure why it had been included in the things Mycroft had obtained from Harry’s place but John was glad to have it in any case. He emptied it of its contents, his army mementos, and then headed downstairs.

            Sherlock was typing away on his computer while Hamish was playing with a few of his toy cars. John rummaged in the toy bin and placed a few things in the backpack. He then moved to the kitchen and quickly made a sandwich. John placed the sandwich as well as a few fruit snacks he found in the cupboard, Hamish’s favorite, in the rugsack.

            “Here Sherlock. I put some food in there for him as well.” John dropped the pack into Sherlock’s lap. “How long will you be at the station?”

            “Hm hard to tell. The case Lestrade wants me to look at probably won’t take much time. I’ll review cold cases if I get finished and you haven’t shown up yet.” Sherlock answered cryptically.

            “Right. Ok good.” John nodded. He moved over to Hamish and squatted down to the boys level. He pulled the boy into a hug and planted a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll see you in a bit alright?”

            “Kay. Love you.” The little boy squeaked out.

            John released him and then walked carefully downstairs. Once outside he stopped short finding a woman texting away on her mobile leaning against a black car.

            “Dr. Watson, Mr. Holmes has sent a car for your use.” The woman droned without looking up from her mobile. John blinked in surprise, still making no move toward the car.

            “Mr. Holmes did what?” He stuttered glancing up at the flat nervously. The woman sighed and looked up from the blackberry finally.

            “Mycroft thought you might want a ride to the facility to see your sister.” She explained again.

            Right, of course. John thought. He nodded and walked towards the car sliding in after the girl who had now resumed typing frantically on her blackberry. Wordlessly she passed him another mobile. He flicked through it noting Mycroft, Lestrade and Sherlock’s numbers already programed in. He flipped open a message and typed out.

           

            **Mycroft provided me a mobile. Txt me if you get done at the station before I get there.**

A short while later he received an answering text.

 

_Well I suppose he is good for something. –SH_

            John smiled rolling his eyes at Sherlock’s terseness towards his brother. He settled back into his seat and watched as London went by.

 

 

 

 

 

 

           

 

 

            “Where are we going?” Hamish asked from beside him.

            “The police station.” Sherlock answered simply looking down at him.

            “Why?”

            “Because I was asked to look at a case.”

            “Why?”

            “Because I am a detective that is what I do.”

            “What’s a case?” Hamish cocked his head to the side in confusion.

            “In this context it is a crime that needs to be solved. Like a puzzle.” Sherlock added.

            “Is crime like when you hurt someone’s feelings?” Hamish scrunched his face up as he thought it through.

            “Crime is when you do something against the law.” Sherlock defined in the simplest terms he could manage. Hamish looked at him in confusion still. How does one explain this to a three year old?

            “Hamish, it’s like when you do something you aren’t supposed to. When you break a rule.” He offered.

            “Like when I don’t pick up my toys and daddy gets mad?” Hamish asked.

            “Yes like that, only much more serious than not picking up toys.” Sherlock smiled as the little boy’s expression cleared.

            The cab pulled up to the station at this point and Sherlock paid the fare quickly before stepping out onto the curb. He held the rugsack John had given him in one hand and took Hamish’s in his other.

            Sherlock made his way into the building, looking down at Hamish every so often. Hamish had gone quiet again and was watching everything around him warily.

            Sherlock found Lestrade leaning over a table with a few files spread out. He noticed as he stopped that Hamish had moved closer to his side.

            “Lestrade.” Sherlock announced his presence. Lestrade’s head snapped up relief filling his eyes.

            “Thank god. If these cases are connected like I think they are we have a serial killer on our hands, one who’s targeting homeless.” He replied and then glancing down he noticed Hamish. “Where’s John?”

            “Visiting his sister. He sent along things for Hamish to do.” Sherlock explained holding the bag up. Lestrade nodded and walked around the table taking the bag from Sherlock.

            “Hey there buddy. Why don’t you sit right here?” Lestrade pointed at a chair on the far side of the table away from the gory pictures.

            Hamish looked up at Sherlock briefly before moving to the offered chair. Lestrade helped him up and then opened the bag.

            “Would you like to color?” Lestrade asked as he pulled out an animal coloring book.

            “Don’t give him a pen!” Sherlock said quickly moving to stand behind Hamish.

            “Of course not!” Lestrade rolled his eyes and pulled out a box labeled crayons.

            “Crayons. Right the website said those were acceptable.” He nodded moving over to the case files.

            “Website?” Lestrade questioned watching as Hamish relaxed and flipped through the pages of his coloring book.

            “The website with advice on how to care for children.” Sherlock explained with the wave of his hand.

            Sherlock then began to block out everything around him except for the cases. All of the victims were men and all of them veterans. He began sifting through the evidence and photos cataloging everything mentally.

 

 

 

 

            Greg watched as Sherlock worked over the cases quietly. It would be a while before Sherlock resurfaced. He sighed and went to his office briefly to fetch some paperwork to work on. Greg settled across from Hamish when he returned taking a moment to watch the little boy.

            Hamish was dutifully coloring a picture of a jaguar. Greg smiled at the color choices. It seems that in Hamish’s world jaguar’s were black with grey-blue spots. He watched for a few more minutes, noting that every so often Hamish would look up at Sherlock, as if to check on him.

            Greg chuckled softly. Hamish sure had taken a liking to his arrogant brother-in-law. It seemed that Sherlock had taken a liking to the boy as well.

A website on how to care for children. Greg smiled, how so very like Sherlock to research it. He turned to his mountain of paperwork and waited for Sherlock to come to his conclusions.

            When he had finally reached the bottom of his stack he checked his watch and noted that a few hours had passed. Greg looked up at Hamish and found the little boy still coloring, a lion this time.

            “Boss has the freak come up with anything yet?” he heard Sally ask from behind him.

 

 

 

 

            Sherlock heard Sally’s statement and flicked a glance towards Hamish briefly. Hamish had stopped coloring and was staring at her with a mixture of apprehension and fear. Sherlock moved around the table on the pretense of grabbing a file and positioned himself closer to the little boy. He noted in his peripheral vision that Hamish relaxed slightly when he moved closer.

            “Who’s the kid?” She questioned.

            “Hamish.” Sherlock replied glaring up at her. “Lestrade, this is most definitely a serial killer of sorts. All of the victims fit the pattern except this one.” He explained pushing a file to the side.

            “Right,” Lestrade blinked at the change in topic. “Anything else?”

            “He’s targeting military men specifically. Check your records and you will find that all of the veterans had served at the same time but in different units. So it is likely that the killer doesn’t know them personally. His vendetta against them is for some other reason. Look into anti-war groups; try to find someone alone in life and with a history of violent actions. Someone perhaps who had a relative die in action. There’s not much to go on evidence wise, he’s to good to make a mistake. He took extra precaution to try to wipe their identities and make them appear homeless. The shabby clothes, the dirt and grime smudged purposefully into the bodies. He’s deliberately trying to erase their identities.”

            “How are we going to catch him then?” Lestrade pleaded.

            “Set a trap perhaps. He got the names of these men from somewhere. Go to the military records office and ask around. All of these men were wounded in action, they would likely be on an official list of some sort. He no doubt got the names from there.”

            Lestrade nodded and stood up collecting the files.

            “You off then?” Lestrade asked as he stood.

            “Unless you have some cold cases for me to review.” Sherlock stated.

            “We might yea.” Lestrade scratched his chin turning to Sally. “Donovan go pull out some of the cold cases we were looking over the other day.”

            Sally jumped at his words, still staring at Hamish with a confused expression. She nodded and turned and disappeared down the hall. Lestrade disappeared as well leaving Sherlock alone with Hamish.

            Sherlock sat down beside the little boy and looked at his coloring sheet. Clearly the little boy didn’t adhere to normal rules choosing to color the lion’s mane with deep blues and golds. Sherlock glanced up at the clock and noted it was close to lunchtime.

            “Hungry?” He questioned softly. Hamish nodded but continued coloring. Sherlock opened the bag and pulled out the sandwich John had made and unwrapped it before placing it next to the little boy.

            “Here freak.” Sally called as she walked toward him placing a box on the table. Sherlock ignored her taunt and stood. He riffled through the box glancing at each file briefly.

            “Anything interesting enough for you Sherlock?” Greg teased walking up to the table once more.

            “Perhaps.” Sherlock drawled still rifling through the box.

            “Sirlock!” Hamish demanded. Sherlock looked up and found Hamish scowling at him holding his sandwich.

            Sighing he stepped closer and took the sandwich. He tore it in half and gave the large piece back to Hamish before nibbling on the remaining bit as he resumed looking through the case files for something interesting, completely missing the look of shock that crossed Sally’s face.

            “These will do for now.” Sherlock explained taking a few files in hand and settling back down at the table.

 

 

 

 

            Sally was speechless. She wasn’t sure who this kid was or why he was here but for whatever reason he seemed to like Sherlock. Sally began to wonder why, what did Sherlock do to provoke it? Drug the boy? Lestrade seemed completely unconcerned as usual. She had never seen Sherlock act that way before. She blinked a few times and went to go find Anderson. He was simply not going to believe this.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of this bit will be up hopefully by next weekend. Depends on when I can get the cable people here to hook up internet...so you know who knows? If they decide to take an absurd amount of time I'll find my way to starbucks like I did this time. 
> 
> Thanks for all of your continued support!!! It still boggles my mind that every time I update this over 200 emails are sent out..... 
> 
> I'm sure there are some errors I apologize!!!! point them out if they are too distracting!


	11. Captain Watson to the Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!!! enjoy!

          

 

           Greg watched in amusement as Hamish demanded Sherlock’s attention and then waved the sandwich at him. He suppressed a chuckle as Sherlock tore the sandwich apart and nibbled resentfully at it. He glanced at Sally and noted her shocked expression before she turned and hurriedly walked down the hall, no doubt in search of Anderson.

            Greg sighed, well that didn’t bode well. Sherlock had moved back to his seat and was reading a case file intently while absentmindedly chewing on the sandwich. Hamish stared happily at Sherlock a bit longer before diverting his attention back to his coloring book, flipping to a new page.

            After watching on for a few more minutes Greg sighed and turned to head back to his office. Paperwork wouldn’t finish itself.

 

 

 

            Sherlock had just solved another cold case and placed it on a large stack of files that he had already looked through when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down and found that Hamish had left his chair and was staring up at him, squirming in an odd sort of dance.

            “I has to go potty Sirlock.” Hamish announced quietly.

            Sherlock nodded and pushed back from the table, he glanced up at the clock and noticed it was verging on two o’clock. He took the child’s hand and walked him down the hall to the bathroom. He waited outside the stalls and then helped Hamish reach the sink so he could wash his hands.

           Once they exited the bathroom the little boy skipped ahead of him in the hallway pausing in front of the water fountain. Sherlock smiled as Hamish pushed himself on tiptoe do reach the stream. Walking over he scooped him up, causing the little boy to giggle, and held him so he could drink with ease.

After setting Hamish down he followed the little boy around the corner and found Lestrade emerging from his office once more. Hamish excitedly ran to the table and pulled a piece of paper from it before running to Lestrade.

           “For you!” Hamish proclaimed excitedly waving the paper in front of Lestrade.

           Lestrade looked down at the boy in surprise before taking the paper. Sherlock leaned forward to examine Hamish’s present. It was a coloring page of a bear. Hamish had colored the bear’s fur with black, greys and browns. The grass was colored mostly green with a few hints of yellow here and there while the sky was an alarming shade of red.

          “Well thanks buddy!” Lestrade grinned widely at the little boy. “Want to help me put it up in my office?”

          Hamish nodded enthusiastically and with a glance at Sherlock followed Lestrade into his office.

          Sherlock turned his attention to the case files once more. He gathered the ones he had finished to review with Lestrade and waited browsing through Hamish’s coloring book. Clearly the little boy loved this activity. A good number of the pages were completely filled in. The coloring itself was finished remarkably well for a kid as young as Hamish. Sherlock smiled at the odd color choices that popped up now and again.

          “So you kidnap a child? Trying to brainwash someone into liking you?” Anderson sneered from behind him.

Sherlock turned and found that both Anderson and Sally had wandered over and were clearly trying to start trouble.

          “No.” He clipped.

Anderson was interrupted before he could comment with what was sure to be another ridiculous statement by Hamish bounding back towards them.

          “Sirlock Sirlock!!” Hamish reached him holding up what appeared to be a lolly. “Greg gave me this! Can I have it??”

Sherlock hoisted the little boy up and settled him on his hip. With Anderson and Sally close by he wanted Hamish where he could easily comfort the boy.

          “Yes of course.” Sherlock unwrapped it before turning to Lestrade. “Dipped into Mycroft’s candy stash have you?”

          “Nah not this time. We keep a few on hand for kids that come in.” Lestrade grinned. “Besides you know Myc prefers chocolate.”

         “Mycroft prefers food in general.” Sherlock scoffed. “Now about these cases-”

          “Sir! Whoever this kid is he shouldn’t be around the freak.” Sally stepped forward reaching for Hamish. “Come here little guy.”

          “Sirlock!!!!!” Hamish grabbed fiercely onto Sherlock’s coat burying his face in his scarf.

          “Oi! Back off Donovan.” Greg stepped forward to block her. “Hamish is in Sherlock’s care.”

          “His care!?!?” Anderson stuttered in outrage. “He’s not fit to take care of anyone!!”

         “Sir…lock…” Hamish whimpered into his coat. Sherlock glared at Anderson while patiently rubbing the little boys back.

         “He’s right boss! Who in their right mind would trust HIM with their kid???” Sally seethed making to move around Lestrade once more.

          “I would.” A stern voice full of anger startled them all.

 

 

 

 

           John waited in the visiting room patiently for Harry. The ride to the clinic had been longer than he anticipated, arriving there just after eleven. He hoped that Harry was doing all right in this place; the last time she had consented to any sort of clinic help had been a trial for everyone. He shifted on the posh couch that he was seated on in the visitor’s lounge. There were a few other people waiting about in various parts of the room, but John really paid no notice to them.

         “John!”

John turned and spotted Harry in the doorway. Harry looked better than he expected.

            “Harry!” John jumped up and cross the room embracing her. She shook in his arms slightly holding him tight.

            “I thought I was never going to see you again.” She whispered.

            “I’m okay. I’m here, I’m fine we’re all fine.” John soothed her.

            After she had calmed down a bit John led her back over to the couch and they sat down. He took in her appearance and noted that she appeared marginally better than the last time she was in rehab, despite the bloodshot eyes.

            “Oh Johnny I didn’t even make it a week before I fell off the wagon.” Harry cried into his shoulder.

            “Harry it’ll be okay. It is fairly common for this sort of thing to happen.” John rubbed her back gently.

            “I thought you’d be mad.” She peered up at him.

            “I’m not at all thrilled by it, but I can understand it.” John stated looking down at her. “You were doing so well what happened?”

            “You and Hamish were gone and nobody could help. I didn’t know what to do.”

            “So you started drinking again.” John sighed “Harry you’re stronger than that. You can’t keep using bad things as an excuse to drink. We talked about this when I was invalided home. I understand that you would be upset and hurt but you can’t fall into a slump every time something bad happens to someone you love.”

He felt Harry sigh next to him. John continued to gently rub her arm.

           “I know, I remember the conversation.” She mumbled weakly. “I’m sorry I’m so weak.”

           “You’re not weak!” He gripped her shoulder and waited for her to look at him. “Not many addicts have the strength to admit they need help, and you have admitted it twice now and are working to overcome it. This is just a minor setback.”

She smiled up at him and wiped some of her tears away. They sat in silence for a few moments before Harry pulled back entirely from his side. She turned minutely on the couch so that she could see him better.

            “I’d have thought Hamish would be with you." She stated.

            "Yeah well I needed to talk with you about a few things and thought it best if he didn’t overhear.”

            “Where is he?” she asked biting her lower lip in worry.

            “Don’t worry, Sherlock has him. They went to Scotland Yard to look over some cases. He’ll be perfectly safe there.” John smiled.

           “Sherlock?” She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I didn’t think he would still want to help once they found you. Didn’t really seem like the kid type to be honest, although Hamish certainly liked him.”

            “Yea well I trust Sherlock and like you said Hamish likes him.” John chuckled thinking of the two. “Besides since we are staying with him it just made things easier.”

           “Staying with Sherlock? Why aren’t you at our apartment?” She asked confused.

           “That’s what I need to talk to you about.” John sighed.

           “Well come on out with it.” Harry poked him in the ribs.

           “Geesh, impatient as ever.” John frowned at her.

          “Are you finally going to tell me the real reason Mary left? Is that why you were taken?” She quirked an eyebrow.

          “Yea. I’m not sure how much I actually should tell you but I think it’s time you new the basic details.” He looked around and made sure that they were still relatively secluded. “It wasn’t until she came back that even I found out the real reason. It seems that Mary was a sort of hired killer before she met me. She left to keep me and Hamish safe.”

          “Didn’t work.” Harry snorted. John smiled a bit at this reaction.

          “No it didn’t, did it. Well apparently about two months ago she started receiving a summons to work once more from her past employers. She refused one to many times and they took Hamish and I as collateral to ensure she did what they wanted.”

         “How did you get away? Sherlock said Hamish was dropped by Scotland Yard.”

         “Well that’s the other thing. Neither the police nor Sherlock’s brother Mycroft, whoever _he_ works for, know who killed her and who freed us. They believe we are still in danger. Mycroft wanted to put us in a safe house.” He explained.

         “Why didn’t you accept???” Harry squeezed his right arm.

          “Harry I was just isolated for a month, I was not eager to be so confined again. Mycroft’s alternative was for us to stay with his brother, who he apparently keeps well protected anyway.”

         “He did seem like the overbearing older brother type when I met him.” Harry nodded. John hummed in agreement.

         “So we will be staying with him until things get cleared up and we are no longer in any danger.” He finished.

         “How has that been so far?” She asked squinting her eyes as she considered him.

          “Actually fairly well. I mean I have only been there for a day so I am sure more of Sherlock’s eccentricities are sure to pop up.”

          “What makes you think it will still be alright when they pop up? I looked his website up after I met him Johnny. Sherlock is more than a little eccentric.” She paused to laugh a bit. “You know he wrote an article recording the differences of tobacco ash and proceeded to explain why this knowledge was important. And that was one of the more tame experiments that he posted.”

           “I know and we will cross those bridges when they come.” John said thinking about the implications of the cleared out fridge when they had first arrived. “He is so good with Hamish though. If we have to be kept safe for a while I would rather stay at Baker Street. Hamish needs the feeling of safety and comfort right now and Sherlock and him seem to have bonded a bit so..” He trailed off with a shrug.

            “Well I suppose that is a fair enough reason.” She nodded then turned to look at the clock. “You should probably be heading back soon I imagine.”

            “I can stay Harry, Hamish is safe right now.” John mumbled.

             “Yes I know you _can_ but I also know that you are itching to get back to Hamish. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the fidgets and glances at the clock.” She stated with a smile.

            “Really I can stay for a while longer it’s no problem.” John assured her and did his best to sit still.

            “Well that’s too bad because there is a group skill building class that I want to go to and it starts soon so you’ll have to go anyway.” She smiled. John looked at her and chuckled.

            “Alright if you’re sure.” He said drawing her in for another hug.

 

 

 

_“He’s right boss! Who in their right mind would trust HIM with their kid???” Sally seethed making to move around Lestrade once more._

_“I would.” A stern voice full of anger startled them all._

            Sherlock relaxed and turned to see John standing ramrod straight in the doorway.

            “Perfect timing John.” He acknowledged him with a nod and a pat to Hamish’s back. Hamish unfurled himself from Sherlock’s coat and waved at his father relief filling his face.

            “Anderson, Donovan, this is John Watson, Hamish’s father.” Lestrade explained to the two open-mouthed detectives. Donovan recovered first, stepping between Sherlock and John.

             “Mr. Watson I don’t know what Sherlock told you or gave you to make you think he is the sort of person that you would want around your kid but trust me when I tell you he is not.” Donovan explained carefully. Sherlock smirked as John narrowed his eyes at her and stepped up close to stare her down.

             “That is Dr. or Captain Watson to you _Sergeant_ Donovan.” John growled at her. “Furthermore I don’t like the implication that I could be drugged or bribed into not caring about my son’s safety. I would trust Sherlock with me life, and in fact I have considering I have placed Hamish in his care.”

Donovan’s eyes widened at his correction and shrank back momentarily.  In no time she had plucked up the courage for one more jab.

            “Sir I don’t think you understand. He experiments on bodies, he enjoys crime and he is an ex-addict, a freak. You really should rethink-”

            “ **Enough**!” John commanded clenching his jaw. “I would kindly remind you that I am a Doctor. How exactly do you think doctors have come to know so much about the human body in the past? That’s right, by examining bodies and performing tests and experiments. How else is knowledge to be acquired? We wouldn’t know half of what the body does or how it works if it hadn’t been for doctors in the past that cut open corpses to examine the best ways to understand and help the living. Da Vinci himself made it a study but perhaps I shouldn’t expect someone as clearly uncultured as yourself to have seen his anatomy drawings. As for Sherlock’s fascination with crime one would think you would be a bit more kind to the person who saves you hours of work and allows you to catch killers before they strike again. As for the addict comment, if you are implying that that should make me run, make me angry or make me treat him in any other way other than a human being you have another thing coming. One would think that a police officer wouldn’t be so prejudiced against someone who is different. Now if you will be so kind as to butt out of affairs where your _advice_ is unneeded and unwelcome it would be most appreciated.”

             Sherlock watched as Sally shrank further and further back with each sentence of John’s speech. Her anger and arrogance replaced by shock and fear. Anderson had ended up fleeing halfway through John’s lecture. As he finished John glared at her until she scuttled away quickly before taking the remaining steps to Sherlock and Lestrade. Sherlock noted Lestrade’s shock and appreciation of John’s command of the room and smiled. Sherlock himself was still processing everything John had just said; no one had ever defended him in such a way before and Sherlock found it well, nice.

            “Remind me not to get on your bad side mate.” Lestrade finally said grinning at John.

            “I apologize if I overstepped any.” John stated in a much calmer voice.

            “No no, no need. I have been wanting to say something for a while but just couldn’t find the right words.” Lestrade chuckled. “I wish I had that on film actually.”

            John chuckled as well and relaxed his posture back into the unassuming Doctor. He looked up at Sherlock and raised an eyebrow.

            “Bout ready to go?” John inquired.

            “Hmm yes. Let me jot down my conclusions to these cold cases for Lestrade.” Sherlock moved to the table and after shifting Hamish slightly in his arms reached down and quickly scribbled out his solutions half listening to John and Lestrade discuss football teams.

            With his deductions written out Sherlock gathered Hamish’s things and re-joined John and Lestrade. After a few more pleasantries Sherlock led the way out of the police department, John by his side. They passed Sally and a few other officers, who had clearly overheard, all of them staring wide-eyed at John. Sherlock smirked and glanced over at the doctor. John chuckled and shook his head at him.

            “Where to now?” John asked him.

            “Play!!! I want to play!” Hamish piped up.

            “We could head to a park? Let him run some of his energy off before heading back to Baker Street.” John offered smiling at his son. Sherlock simply nodded and hailed them a cab.

 

            In no time at all John and Sherlock sat watching as Hamish excitedly climbed over a jungle gym. Sherlock cleared his throat and looked down at John.

            “Thank you, for that back there.” He said quietly.

            “Don’t. I only did what any decent human being would have done.” John looked up at him with a smile.

            “You’d be the first.” Sherlock noted looking back to where Hamish played.

            “Well then it’s about damn time.” John stated fiercely. “Were you just going to let her berate you?”

            “I used to make deductions about her to get her to back off but that just made her more vicious.” Sherlock shrugged. “I let the personal comments slip and focus on the work. That’s what’s important.”

            “Well I don’t imagine you’ll be getting as much trouble from her for the time being.” John smiled.

            “No I’d expect not.” Sherlock grinned, “I wonder if I can hack into Mycroft’s hidden camera’s and get that footage.”

            “I haven’t done that sort of dressing down since the army. It was nice.” John chuckled.

            “It was a pleasure to watch.” Sherlock considered him. “Not at all what I expected to be honest.”

            “What did you expect me to do? Believe her?” John asked incredulously.

            “Hm no. I imagined you would take Hamish, tell her off in a nice way and be off.”

            “Well I never have been on to cater to bullies I wasn’t about to start now. And the last thing I would have done would have been to take Hamish from you.”

            “Why’s that?” Sherlock asked.

            “Well for one he was perfectly comfortable with you and not in any danger. There was no reason to. Second, it would have only cemented everything Donovan believed if I had come in and ‘rescued him’ from you. By leaving him in your arms while I dealt with her it showed my confidence and trust in you.” John explained.

            Sherlock considered this and nodded seeing the event in a new light. John was certainly turning out to be an interesting puzzle he thought. They watched as Hamish continued to play, each man lost in his own thoughts.

            Hamish wandered back over to them after a while, his eyes bright and face flushed and crawled into John’s lap.

            “Did you have fun?” John asked him.

            “Uh-huh! Did you see me climb to the top?? And swing??? Did you see how I high I got?” Hamish asked excitedly.

            “I did indeed you little monkey!” John tickled the little boy who began to laugh and squirm.

            “Stop!!!” Hamish giggled squirming out of John’s reach and into Sherlock’s lap. Sherlock held his hand to the little boy’s back ensuring he didn’t topple backwards.

            “Well what now? Do you want to keep playing?” John asked the still giggling child.

            “No. I’m hungry!” Hamish shook his head and informed them.

            “Well I definitely could eat. Sherlock?” John looked at him, raising his eyebrows in question.

            “How do you feel about Italian?” Sherlock returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this being late! I knew what I wanted to say but it took longer to get it out than I expected.  
> I got my June work schedule and It looks as if I might be doing a fair bit of overtime at the end of the month. I have the next three chapters outlined and hopefully I'll get them ready to go so when those weeks come I won't have much to do but post them. 
> 
> Thank you all for your support!! When I started writing this it I had no idea that this many people would enjoy it. Now I am immensely glad I decided to go for it. You guys are awesome!!!! 
> 
> If there are any things you would like to see let me know and I'll try to work them in. The past two chapters were inspired by a comment wanting to see the Yarder's reaction. So if it is doable than I will try my hardest to make it something that happens!! I do have most of the plot pretty much nailed down (oh you guys just wait....) but am I curious as to know where you guys want this to go or where you think it is going to go. 
> 
> Next time be prepared for a bit more fluff out of Hamish but mainly a few serious matters that get discussed. Are you ready?


	12. Family Dinner.....Sort of....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, a friend came in to town and I was spending some time with her actually being social. I know *gasp* I hope you enjoy this!! It's mostly fluff.

         

 

          “I’m telling you Myc, you should have seen it. The look on Donovan’s face was priceless.” Gregory chuckled.

            Mycroft smiled and listened as his husband continued to expound on the afternoons events. He sent off a text to his assistant requesting the footage of the Met’s cameras be sent to him immediately.

            When it was decided that Dr. Watson and his son stay with his unruly younger brother he had expected it to end in disaster. At the very least he expected a phone call within the first couple of hours of Dr. Watson staying there. Shockingly no such call was made and the Doctor and his son seemed perfectly content to stay with his brother. Mycroft was unused to being wrong. It had been two days and the Doctor showed no signs of wanting to leave Baker Street.

            Perhaps a closer observation of the good doctor might yield more understanding. Mycroft had of course reviewed all of the Intel on Dr. Watson when the case first came to his attention. Dr. Watson had an impressive background but nothing he had read in the file had indicated that the ex-military man would get along with his eccentric brother.

            “Myc?” Greg inquired softly snapping Mycroft from his musings.

            “Yes?” he looked at Gregory who was standing in the kitchen with the fridge open.

            “What do you want for dinner?” Greg asked clearly amused.

            “Let’s go out for dinner.” Mycroft said after a moment of contemplation.

 

 

  

 

            “Sherlock! Always good to see you!” a large rough looking Italian man clasped Sherlock hard on the shoulder.

            “Angelo.” Sherlock replied with a nod and a small smile.

            “Ah you have a date I see! Shall I get a small candle for the table?” The man asked spotting John.

            John suppressed a smile and waited to see what Sherlock would do. Sherlock frowned and pointedly looked down at Hamish, who was holding on steadfastly to one of Sherlock’s hands as well as one of John’s. Angelo followed his gaze and for a moment John was worried the man was going to have a coronary.

            “Is my usual table open?” Sherlock inquired with a small smirk.

            “Yes yes of course!” Angelo finally stuttered out.

            John followed Sherlock to a table in front of the window. He helped Hamish up into a chair and then shaking his head he turned to Sherlock.

            “You might want to explain something to that poor man Sherlock, He looked like he was going to have a heart attack.” John whispered watching as Angelo made his way to them carrying a few menus. Sherlock rolled his eyes but turned towards the confused looking Italian man.

            “Angelo this is Doctor John Watson and his son Hamish Watson. Friends of mine.”

            “Well any friends of Sherlock are friends of mine.” Angelo smiled at John and then at Hamish still looking rather befuddled.

            “I’m not sure that helped.” John chuckled as the man went away. John leaned forward and grabbed a menu.

            “I wouldn’t bother. He’ll just disregard what you ask for anyway.” Sherlock commented.

            “What do you mean?” John asked startled.

            “Angelo says he has a sixth sense about what food people want. So I wager that at this very moment he has already put in orders for all of us.”

            “Does he do that with all of his customers?” John questioned closing the menu and placing it aside.

            “Just the ones he likes.” Sherlock smirks.

            “I want speyetti!” Hamish declared drawling their attention. Sherlock frowns and looks at John.

            “It’s spaghetti Hamish.” John corrected smiling fondly.

            “Although if he want’s a yeti I am sure we could find him one.” Sherlock muses glancing out of the window. Hamish giggles at that and reaches for his utensils to play with.

            “So how were those cases Greg wanted you to look at? Were they linked?” John asked.

            “Hm yes the were. There isn’t much to go on at present with only poorly taken photographs that leave out most of the detail.” Sherlock replied still gazing out of the window his expression suddenly turning dark. John is just about to ask what’s wrong when Angelo bustles over to their table once more two glasses of water and a small glass of milk in his hands.

            “Your order shouldn’t be two long. I personally guarantee that you will enjoy it.” The man smiles warmly down at Hamish.

            “Thank you.” John nods and then notices two familiar faces walking in the door. He looks over at Sherlock who is glaring down his brother.

            “Well isn’t this a surprise. Shall we join you?” Mycroft drawled, Greg following behind him with a large grin plastered to his face.

            “Please Mycroft don’t pretend your surprised to see us here. Well Hamish it looks as if you’ll get your yeti after all.” Sherlock sneered. At this Hamish whipped around and took in Mycroft’s sudden appearance.

            John chuckled at Angelo and Greg’s confusion and then looked at Mycroft and laughed heartily at his affronted look. Hamish regarded Mycroft critically tilting his head and squinting his eyes. Finally he looked back to Sherlock with a confused face.

            “Where is all his fur?” Hamish questioned turning back to stare at a now very frustrated Mycroft.

            “He only looks like a full yeti at the full moon Hamish.” Greg piped up stepping forward and plopping himself down in a chair. He turned to John and grinned.

            “I thought that was werewolves?” Hamish asked looking up at John his little brow knitted together in thought.

            “Angelo is it? I believe we will require a bottle of your finest Merlot.” Mycroft states before taking a seat at the head of the table, Greg and Hamish on either side of him. Angelo nods and quickly scampers away to do as bidden.

            John and Greg look from a still scowling Sherlock and Mycroft who seems as if he has decided to ignore everyone at the table. Hamish is still studying him intently from top to bottom. John is just about to strike up a conversation with Greg about football when he sees Hamish lean in close to Mycroft.

            “I don’t think you are a real yeti” the little boy whispers not so quietly to the stoic man.

            John looks at Greg and they both burst into laughter once more. They are still laughing when Angelo returns with the requested bottle of wine looking at them curiously. Once the wine has been poured Sherlock glares at his brother once more.

            “So why are you here Mycroft?” He sneers.

            “I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean. Gregory and I simply decided to go out to dinner and happened to wander into the same restaurant. Just a happy coincidence.” Mycroft smiled. Well at least John thought it was a smile.

            “Debatable.” Sherlock snorts and resumes glaring out of the window.

 

 

            Mycroft rolls his eyes at his brother and takes a sip of his wine. John sends Gregory a look that Mycroft reads as ‘ _Are they always like this?’_  To which Gregory shrugs and sends a look that plainly says ‘ _you get used to it’._ Gregory clears his throat and gives Mycroft a fleeting glance before turning back to John.

            “So Sherlock mentioned you were visiting your sister. How did that go?” Greg asked.

            “It went fairly well. She is doing much better than then last time she went to rehab. I can tell she’s still struggling but I think she is handling it better this time.” John replied.

            “What is making it easier this time around?” Greg asked.

            “Well she is participating more readily in the group activities so that helps. She just seems more accepting than before. I am hoping that she will have made enough progress by the eighteenth that she will be allowed a day pass or something.” John explained.

            “The 18th of April? That’s next week innit? Why then?” Greg questioned.

            “I know it’s soon but that is Hamish’s birthday.” John replied looking down at the little boy who was now stacking various items on the table on top of each other until the precarious structure fell.

            “Not to worry John I am sure Mycroft will pull some strings.” Sherlock chimed in still staring out of the window.

            After Sherlock’s interruption the conversation moved to football and a discussion of players. Mycroft studied John for a while not paying attention to the conversation. John seemed entirely normal to Mycroft’s gaze. Then again he had thought the same of Gregory when they first met. Mycroft looked down at Hamish who was still fiddling with items on the table.

            Watching him Mycroft was reminded of a very young Sherlock acting precisely the same way at the many social dinner’s their parents held over the years.

 

 

            _Sherlock was fidgeting in his seat and glancing about at the guests. Mycroft figured he was about 3 minutes away from causing trouble. The last dinner their parents had held Sherlock had crawled under the table and tied the Ambassador from Belgium’s feet together causing the man to stumble directly into the table and his unfinished dessert when he had tried to stand._

_Mycroft, 14 at the time, decided to try to avoid another such event and discreetly grabbed his place card and began folding it into a small paper frog. When he finished he tapped it so that it would hop directly across the table to Sherlock. Sherlock who had been clearly planning something nefarious stared in wonder at the small paper creation. Sherlock had been so occupied testing the limits of the jumping paper and then reverse engineering it to find out precisely how it was made that the dinner had ended and whatever Sherlock had been planning was long forgotten._

           Mycroft opened his utensil roll and began folding the small strip of paper that had held the napkin roll closed into a small paper frog. As he worked Mycroft noticed Hamish’s interest in what he was doing and suppressed a smile. In no time he was done and tapped the paper gently so that it would hop to Hamish just as he had done all those years ago for Sherlock. Immediately Hamish’s eye’s lit up and he laughed in delight at the new distraction.

            Hamish’s laugh attracted the attention of Sherlock, John and Gregory. Gregory smiled at Mycroft and placed a loving hand on his thigh. John looked pleased if a little confused. Sherlock’s reaction was Mycroft’s favorite however. For the briefest of seconds a genuine smile adorned Sherlock’s face as he looked at the paper frog Hamish was playing with. It was gone in a flash and Sherlock resumed his staring out of the window.

            John and Greg resumed their talk and Mycroft stared fondly at Hamish as the little boy made the paper frog jump over and over again. Mycroft sipped his wine and wondered idly if he was ever going to see a menu. That man Angelo had not been back by their table again since he brought them the wine. Mycroft sighed in agitation. Really why _this_ establishment was Sherlock’s favorite restaurant was beyond him.

            “Here you are gentlemen. I hope you’re hungry!” Angelo said behind him. Mycroft turned to see the large man held a tray full of meals. “For you Sherlock we have Eggplant Parmesan and for Dr. Watson we have a nice Mushroom Risotto.”

            Mycroft watches as the man places said dishes in front of his brother and John. Angelo then turns to Greg and places a steaming dish in front of him.

            “For you sir Veal Parmesan,” Angelo announced then turned and placed a plate in front of Mycroft. “And a nice Vegetarian Lasagna for you sir.”

            “What about me!!” Hamish whined causing them all to smile.

            “Ah Hamish the most important for last!! A nice bowl of spaghetti.” Angelo grinned placing the child-sized portion in front of the smiling boy.

           “Enjoy!” Angelo finished before making his way back to the kitchens.

           “We didn’t even order.” Greg stated looking up at Mycroft in confusion.

           “You didn’t have to. Angelo is very good at knowing what his customers need.” Sherlock announced as he began to eat his dish. That alone was enough to shock Mycroft, Sherlock rarely ate with out being prompted to.

           Gregory shrugged and began to eat his veal with relish. Mycroft looked down at his lasagna dubiously. He had to admit that it looked delicious. He, however, detested other people making decisions for him. Still it would be impolite to not at least try the offered dish. He can always call the man back and demand something different.

 

 

 

           Sherlock watched his brother covertly as he ate his meal. He knew what his brother was thinking, ‘ _How dare that man dictate what I want’._ Sherlock represses a snort and waits for his brother to finally take a bite. He watches as Mycroft takes his first bite, his expression already determined to hate it. Sherlock smiles at Mycroft’s disdain quickly turns to shock and then delight.

           In no time at all the delicious food is gone and Sherlock watches in smug satisfaction as his brother complements Angelo on the food and offers his card to pay the bill.

          “No no. Your meals are on the house!” Angelo proclaimed happily before waltzing away.

          “Why would he do that?” Lestrade questioned confused looking to Sherlock.

          “I may have gotten him out of a murder charge.” Sherlock shrugged and then further explained at the DI’s concerned expression. “Not to worry he was innocent. At the time of the murder in question he was robbing a house on the other side of the city.”

          Lestrade barks out a laugh and a shake of his head at this explanation before turning to look at John. John who is in the process of wiping sauce from Hamish’s face also looks quite amused and not at all surprised. Mycroft frowns briefly in disapproval before placing his ever-present stoic mask back in place.

        “Well I’m not complaining that was delicious and exactly what I wanted. I don’t know how he knew but I am thoroughly impressed.” Lestrade concluded draining the last of his wine.

         “Shall we go?” Sherlock stood without waiting for confirmation and moved toward the door, having already placed a sizable tip next to his plate.

         Once outside Sherlock pulled his coat closer around him and turned to find John next to him. Hamish was snuggly nestled in his arms, clutching the paper frog and blinking around him sleepily. Greg and Mycroft followed soon after.

         “Well this was nice.” John commented smiling at Lestrade. “Let me know when you want to meet up at the pub.”

          “Can do John!” Lestrade clapped his shoulder.

          “Yes well we should be going.” Sherlock announced moving in the direction of Baker Street.

          “Brother dear just get in the car.” Mycroft ordered. “I am sure Dr. Watson does not wish to carry his son all the way back to Baker Street.”

           Sherlock turns with an insult at the ready but stops as he sees John. John, clearly exhausted and fidgeting at Hamish’s weight is looking determinedly away, clearly not willing to admit anything. Sherlock concedes quietly moving to stand behind the doctor. A black sedan pulls up to the curb and Hamish’s eyes go wide.

          “Are you a spy?” the little boy whispers up at his brother.

          Mycroft actually smiles slightly at this before winking at the boy and gracefully sliding into the car.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to DaringD for the suggestion of Hamish and Sherlock at the yard for the last chapter as well as the suggestion to showing Angelo's reaction to Hamish, although probably not what they originally had in mind :) 
> 
> I really wanted to do a bit more from Mycroft. He has yet to make any sort of connection to Hamish and well for him I always imagined it being a sort of slow gradual connection due to his reserved nature. I just picture Hamish reminding him so much of a young Sherlock (a less mischievous one) that he can't help but warm to him. Hopefully he's not too off character but well I had the man make an origami frog to entertain a child.......so probably not quite on point to the original character. In my defense he is married in my universe so therefore is already slightly more sentimental than the series Mycroft. Thoughts? 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this! again sorry for mistakes! this is not beta'd or brit-picked (clearly) so if there is any mistake that inhibits your enjoyment let it be known! 
> 
> Thanks for all the support!!! If there is something you desire to see make it known and I will do everything within my power to make it happen. 
> 
> Next chapter is more plot so get ready!!


	13. Just when things seem to settle down......

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More complications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness I'm tired! I suppose getting up at 5am every morning will do that huh? Well here you go hope you enjoy!

           

 

           “He sure fell asleep fast.” Greg remarked next to him. John had been secretly thankful that Sherlock had decided to accept his brother’s assistance. Mycroft had taken the passenger seat and John, Greg and Sherlock had slid into the back with Hamish settled comfortably in his lap. John looked at the inspector and smiled.

            “Car rides always put him out like a light. You wouldn’t believe the amount of money I spent on cabs the first year, driving around London just so he would go to sleep.” John chuckled looking down at his sleeping son.

            “Why didn’t you get a car?” Greg chuckled along with him.

            “Oh we did eventually. Took a while for Harry and me to get the funds together, she was just starting out at her job and I had taken some time off to take care of Hamish when Mary split.” John shrugged.

            Greg nodded in understanding before opening the now stopped car. John waited for Greg to slide out before carefully stepping out with Hamish. Sherlock followed bounding around him to unlock the flat.

            “Thanks for the ride.” John aimed to Mycroft who had also vacated the car and was moving to take John’s place in the back. Mycroft nodded before disappearing once more into the black car.

            “Night mate!” Greg called out before the car door closed and zoomed out of sight.

            John followed Sherlock into the flat, trying not to jostle Hamish too much as he slowly made his way up the stairs. Sherlock walked off to the kitchen and John continued on his way up to his and Hamish’s room.

            After pushing the door open John gently laid Hamish down on the bed. He tugged the paper frog from Hamish’s grasp and set it on the nightstand before tenderly coaxing Hamish out of his clothes and into his pajamas. He had just tucked the little boy under the covers when he heard Sherlock behind him. John looked over to find Sherlock holding the stuffed elephant Hamish had taken to cuddling with.

            “He left it downstairs and I thought he might want it.” Sherlock said quietly handing the toy over.

            “Thanks.” John smiled and tucked it in next to the little boy. His eye caught the paper frog again and he picked it up. “So what’s the deal with the frog?”

            John looked up at Sherlock when he did not readily reply. Sherlock was staring at the paper creation in John’s hand. John was surprised to see a look of fondness adorning the detective’s face.

            “My parents constantly hosted formal dinners for ambassadors and important business friends. I was required to attend, as was Mycroft. I hated them and tended to cause trouble out of boredom. Mycroft used to make them for me to distract from the tedium. After the frog he made a crane and a dragon at the following dinners.” Sherlock explained quietly.

            John was more than a little shocked at the explanation. Mycroft seemed too reserved and proper to go about making origami animals for children. Sherlock smirked as if he knew exactly what John was thinking.

            “That was before he became a judgmental, pompous, overprotective snob of course.” Sherlock finished with a smile. John chuckled a bit at this.

            “Well in light of everything that has happened recently I can’t say that overprotective is a bad thing.” John commented quietly looking back to his sleeping son.

 

 

 

 

            Sherlock woke to the smell of eggs and bacon cooking. He sat up and groggily looked around. Notes, books and diagrams were still piled around him and his laptop had fallen asleep on the bed next to him. He groaned. He had only meant to slip into his mind palace for a few moments while he went over all of the information about John’s case but apparently Sherlock had allowed himself to drift off to sleep.  Grumbling he shifted out of bed permitting the papers to scatter haphazardly. He made his way to the kitchen intent on obtaining some tea.

            He found John in front of the stove gently flipping an egg. Hamish was happily munching on toast and scrambled eggs. Sherlock’s eyes fell on the teapot that was in the center of the table. He happily sat down and helped himself to a cup, stirring his usual two sugars and milk in. It was nice having tea already made in the morning. It was even nice to have the option of breakfast if he wanted it, not that he’d admit it.

            “Wondered when you’d make an appearance Sherlock.” John smiled at him and set a plate down in front of him.

            Sherlock made to argue that wasn’t that hungry but looked down and found only one egg and a few pieces of toast. He shrugged and decided not to comment. John quickly finished cooking and sat down next to him.

            “I have got to find something to occupy my time while we are here other than cooking otherwise we will all be as large as whales soon enough.” John commented with a smile before tucking into his own breakfast.

            “There is probably a local clinic you could take hours at, that shouldn’t be too dangerous, not with Mycroft’s security tailing you.” Sherlock replied.

            “Really you think that might work? Even with whatever danger you think we are under?” John asked his eyes hopeful.

            “Hm yes I think it should be fine-” Sherlock paused hearing his mobile ring. He reached into his robe and pulled it out. “Sherlock Holmes.”

 

            _“There has been an incident at Dr. Watson’s old flat.” Mycroft responded._

            “Spit it out Mycroft.” Sherlock grumbled.

           

            _“There has been a break in. Whoever it was has left it quite a mess. We need John to come assess if anything was taken. Currently we are not sure if this incident is related to the kidnappings or not.”_

“Why didn’t you have surveillance on it? Loosing your touch brother?”

 

            _“Not at all. Whoever it was shot the cameras. Our technicians are attempting to recover any footage they can as we speak.”_

“We will be there shortly.” Sherlock clipped before hitting end and looking up at John.

            “What is it now?” John asked warily.

            “Your flat has been broken into.” Sherlock said blankly.

            “Christ. What next?” John muttered rubbing his face in his hands in frustration. After a few moments John stood up and steeled himself. Motioning to Hamish he said, “Come on then lets get you ready so we can go.”

 

 

 

 

            John sat quietly in the cab, his hand resting on Hamish’s shoulder. Hamish was snuggled in between him and Sherlock. John’s eyes tracked the passing houses noting the familiar landmarks as they drew closer and closer. First their kidnapping, then Mary’s death and their subsequent escape, Harry’s relapse and now this. John wasn’t sure how much more he could take to be honest.

            “I’m still not sure Hamish should have come.” Sherlock commented from beside him. “Perhaps it would have been better to leave him with Mrs. Hudson.”

            “No Sherlock. In light of this new development I would much rather have him were I can see him. I don’t care how much security your brother assigns to Baker Street the only comfort I’m going to have right now is having Hamish in my sight.” John explained for the third time that morning.

            John was saved from having to explain any further by their arrival. He clambered out of the cab pulling Hamish into his arms. He waited while Sherlock paid the cabby, watching as suited men scanned the area. Mycroft waited by the door leaning causally on a black umbrella as if this was nothing more than a routine visit. John walked towards him adjusting Hamish slightly as he went.

            “Dr. Watson.” Mycroft greeted him. “I regret that my lapse in security has led to this meeting.”

            “Me too.” John sighed. “Although to be fair I don’t think any of us expected this.”

            “Indeed. Well if you’ll follow me.” Mycroft replied before turning to head back inside. “Watch your step it is a bit messy.”

            John stepped in behind him and gasped at the scene around him. Furniture was upturned and smashed, pictures ripped off the walls. The sofa had huge slashes exposing the stuffing.

            “Daddy what happened?” Hamish whispered into his neck. John took a deep breath and looked at his son trying to think of anything to assuage his fear.

            “Well it seems like there was a party here last night.” John managed.

            “A party???” Hamish questioned doubtfully.

            “Hm yes John, quite right.” Sherlock answered having caught up.

            “Who threw a party in our house?” Hamish blinked at Sherlock.

            “Well some of Mycroft’s Yeti friends needed a place to sleep and came here. Seems they got a bit out of hand.” Sherlock smirked at his brother. John snorted a little at this. 

            “That’s not very nice.” Hamish frowned looking over at Mycroft.

            “My apologizes. It won’t happen again.” Mycroft placated the little boy and then sent a glare towards his brother.

            “Hamish why don’t you go see if there is anything else you want to take to Sherlock’s hm??” John prompted setting the little boy down.

            “Okay!” Hamish smiled before disappearing down the hall.

 

 

 

            “Thanks for that.” John turned to him with a grateful smile.

            Sherlock nodded his head before looking about. He moved into the sitting room and began to examine the scene.

            “See if you can determine if anything is taken. I’ll have someone come and clear the mess away later.” Mycroft directed at John quietly from somewhere behind him.

            Sherlock moves to the bedrooms and finds them in the same state, furniture upturned and various belongings scattered about. He moves back to the sitting room after briefly looking in on Hamish, who was sorting threw the mess of toys on his floor, grumbling rather adorably.

            “I don’t understand what all this is for, all of our most valuable things are still here.” John explained to his brother.

            “This wasn’t a typical break in.” Sherlock announced from the doorway.

            “What do you mean?” John questioned him.

            “For one nothing seems to be taken, nothing of value anyway. So this wasn’t done for monetary gain.” Sherlock explained.

            “So you think it is connected to the kidnappings then?” Mycroft asked.

            “Hm possibly.” Sherlock commented still looking about. “The damage seems largely done to make a statement. They came here looking for something and couldn’t find it and unleashed their anger.”

            Sherlock notices some curious white powder on the floor and makes to examine it. He hears a crunching noise and looks down to find an empty picture frame on the floor. Frowning he leans down and plucks the frame from the floor.

            “Sherlock?” John questioned.

            “It seems he did take something.” Sherlock turned and held the frame up a few pieces of glass falling out. “Unless you make it a habit to display empty picture frames.”

            John stepped forward and took the frame from him confusion written all over his face. Sherlock moves to examine every picture frame in the room and finds two more with missing pictures and brings them over as well.

            “Do you remember what pictures where in them?” Sherlock handed the other two frames over.

            “This one was one of me and Hamish.” John wiggles the first frame before setting it down on a table. He looks hard at the other two. “Where were these frames? I would know based on where they were in the room.”

            Sherlock quickly pointed to each place and looked expectantly back at John.

            “Right this one was one of me in my Military uniform I think. And this one was one of me and some army mates.” John explained setting the broken frames down.

            “Do you have any copies?” Sherlock asked hopefully.

            “Yea I might. One sec.” John nodded and moved off towards the hall.

            Sherlock moves to the window to examine the curious powder he eyed from before. He pulled some gloves out of his inner coat pocket as well as a clear plastic bag. He scrapes as much of the powder as he can find into the bag before sealing it and tucking it into his pocket.

            “Here might have some copies in here somewhere.” John returned holding a battered old shoebox.

            Sherlock peeled his gloves off and moved to look over his shoulder into the box. John flipped through the photos looking for the right ones. Sherlock caught glimpses of Hamish and John and Harriet clearly on vacation somewhere. After a few minutes John pulled a few pictures out and handed them to Sherlock.

            “There’s the first two.” John stated before returning to his search. Sherlock looked at the first picture. John was holding a smiling Hamish. They were at a park somewhere a football in the grass next to them. The second was John in full dress with his medals and decorations proudly displayed on his uniform. Sherlock scanned the medals his eyes recognizing the military cross, a high honor.

            “Here is the other.” John pulled out a battered looking photograph. “I sent a copy to Harry while I was deployed, she had it printed and framed.”

            Sherlock looked at the photo in question. Four men in military fatigues were smiling back at the camera. John was on the far right laughing into the camera his arm around the man next to him. The man on the far left looked vaguely familiar, not that Sherlock could place him. The two men in the middle were making ridiculous poses at the camera.

            “Who are they?” Sherlock asked looking up at John who was staring at the photo fondly.

            “On the left is Dan. He used to love to pull pranks on everyone. Once he snuck into my tent and released a box of crickets everywhere. Backfired on him though because in the dark he got the wrong tent and released them into the Colonels tent instead.” John chuckled. “He got KP and Latrine duty for a month after that.”

            Sherlock chuckled along with him imagining a Colonel’s outrage.

            “Next to him is Adam. He had a knack for timing his sarcastic remarks to happen at the most inopportune times. Had us all in stitches one night on patrol trying like hell to be quiet so we weren’t detected.”

            “And the last one?” Sherlock asked.

            “That’s Bill.” John sighed his eyes going sad. “He was the rock of the group. Held us all together when it became to much.”

            Sherlock nodded and tucked the pictures into his coat.

            “I don’t understand, why would he want these pictures?” John asked his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

            “Not sure yet.” Sherlock replied moving back towards the hall.

            “Daddy!” Hamish ran into the hallway launching himself at John with a grin on his face. “I got stuff in a box but I can’t carry it.”

            “That’s alright one of us will get it.” John scooped him up giving him a peck on the check.

            “I’ll have one of my men drop off the box shortly.” Mycroft offered before turning to his brother. “Sherlock I expect to be included in your findings.”

            “Of course.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I have some tests to run on that powder. As soon as I figure anything out I’ll be sure to inform you Brother mine.”

            “So back to the flat?” John questioned.

            “I’m going to Bart’s to borrow their lab, the tests I want to run can’t be done at Baker Street.” Sherlock explained.

            “Can I help?” Hamish perked up.

            Sherlock blinked and looked at the child. Hamish was staring at him with large puppy dog eyes. How could a child possibly help? He thought to himself. Then he thought of Hamish’s reaction to the bubble’s and fizz of chemical reactions taking place, and carefully teaching him how to use a microscope.

            “I suppose.” He shrugged looking to John who looked amused.

            “To Bart’s it is then.” John laughed at Hamish’s excited expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was going to include more but was getting to ridiculous lengths so I decided to cut it in half. As a result the next chapter should be up over the weekend since there isn't much left to finish. (Also due to a sudden rearranging of schedules at work I get this weekend off so that helps too :) )
> 
> Hope you all are enjoying things! Any ideas? any requests??


	14. To St. Bart's where Sherlock finds more questions than answers.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly's reaction to Sherlock and Hamish.

           

 

            “So this is where you work then?" John asked as he looked about the orderly lab secretly thinking it looked a bit too neat for Sherlock.

            “Hm yes, Molly allows me to use it now and again.” Sherlock replied gliding about collecting various items.

            “Molly?” John turned to him eyebrows rose in question. “She your girlfriend?”

            “No.” Was all that Sherlock offered in return.

            Shrugging John leaned against the counter and watched as Sherlock set things up. Hamish was looking about with curiosity, keeping his hands dutifully behind him as John had instructed before they came in.

            “How can I help?” Hamish asked looking up at the tall detective.

            Sherlock looked down at him in consideration for a moment before moving off to a cabinet. John watched as Sherlock emerged with a white coat and safety goggles.

            “Now I imagine they will be a bit big for you but we shall have to make do.” He said.

            Sherlock picked Hamish up and stood him on a stool near the workbench. John watched with a smile as Sherlock delicately pulled the lab coat onto Hamish and rolled the overly long sleeves up, the coat falling well past Hamish’s feet. Sherlock then turned and fiddled with the safety goggles for a moment before putting them somewhat-securely on Hamish. John pulled out his new mobile and snapped a picture of the sight.

            “Now what?” Hamish looked to Sherlock his eagerness evident.

            John waited curious as to how far Sherlock was going to go. Sherlock situated a few items on the lab bench before grabbing a graduated cylinder filled with a clear liquid and giving it to Hamish.

            “Sherlock is that safe?” John asked stepping forward slightly.

            Sherlock and Hamish both turned to look at him as if just remembering he was there. Sherlock rolled his eyes while Hamish frowned at him.

            “Of course John, just a little H2O.” Sherlock assured him before turning back to Hamish. “Now why don’t you pour that in here.”

            John watched as Hamish carefully poured the water carefully into the indicated beaker, which was only filled with a small bit of white powder as far as John could see. Next Sherlock picked up a small bottle and withdrew a small amount of liquid before handing the eyedropper to Hamish.

            “Now drop one drop into the same beaker.” Sherlock instructed.

            Hamish did as instructed and then gasped in surprise as the liquid turned a brilliant shade of red.

            “Look!” Hamish called to him excitedly. John smiled and walked up to stand next to the pair.

            “Acidic?” John questioned Sherlock who was staring down at Hamish fondly.

            “It would seem.” Sherlock replied before moving forward and preparing a microscope slide.

            “Now what are you doing?” Hamish looked up at Sherlock leaning forward precariously on the stool. John edged a tiny bit closer ready to catch him in case he leaned to far.

            “I am going to examine a bit of this powder under a microscope.” Sherlock informed him.

            “Can I look in the mirosope?” Hamish questioned stumbling over the last word.

            “Microscope.” Sherlock corrected snapping the slide into place and fiddling with the focus knobs.

            “Yea that!” Hamish exclaimed.

            “Yes yes. One second.” Sherlock lifted Hamish and moved the stool closer to the microscope before putting the eager child back down.

            The door to the lab opened and John turned as a woman of average height walked in. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she was staring down at what seemed to be a cup of coffee. Molly Hooper, John remembered her from his residency days. He was curious to see if she would recognize him.

            “Sherlock, I saw you come in a while ago so I thought I’d bring you up some coff-” She stopped mid-sentence when she finally looked up.

            “Hello.” John offered the shell-shocked woman who was staring at Sherlock and Hamish as if she was seeing an alien.

            “John? John Watson?” Molly finally stuttered out.

            “The one and only.” John smiled.

            “I thought you were in Afghanistan?” She asked moving forward and sloshing a bit of the forgotten coffee. 

            “Hm got shot and sent home about four years ago.” John explained with a sad smile.

            “I’m sorry you two know each other?” Sherlock interrupted with a frown.

            “Yea we did our residency’s together here at Bart’s. I didn’t know this was the Molly you were referring to earlier otherwise I would have said.” John replied with a shrug.

            “You’re looking well John.” Molly said with a smile before turning back to Sherlock and Hamish.

            “Right this is my son Hamish. Hamish this is Dr. Hooper.” John introduced them.

            “Oh!” Molly said in surprise before smiling at Hamish and remarking “I certainly see the resemblance.”

            “You’re a Doctor like Daddy?” Hamish inquired tilting his head to the side.

            “Sort of. I’m a pathologist.” Molly explained.

            “What’s that?” Hamish scrunched his face in confusion.

            “I identify and study different diseases.”

            “How?”

            “Oh well I study corpses to determine how they died and if-“ Molly stopped her eyes going wide realizing what she had just said. She looked over to John her eyes scared.

            John just watched his son warily as the boy processed that information. Hamish knew what a corpse was, John had had to explain it to him when his father had died of a heart attack last winter. Hamish hadn’t seem overly scared or disgusted by the idea at the time, but then most children his age really didn’t have a solid grasp on death. Molly, he noticed out of the corner of his eye, was still in a slightly panicked state.

            After a while Hamish’s expression finally cleared and he turned his attention back to the microscope. John sighed in relief and turned to Molly with a small smile.

 

 

 

            “Is that coffee?” Sherlock asked breaking the silence.

            “Huh? Oh right here sorry.” Molly passed he mug over. “Two sugars just like you like it.”

            Sherlock nodded in appreciation before taking a sip and moving back the lab bench to prepare the next test, vaguely listening as Molly stumbled an apology out and John waved it off.

            “So how did you two meet?” He heard Molly finally ask.

            “Uh well….” John paused.

            “Clients Molly.” Sherlock explained without looking away from the chemicals he was mixing, Hamish being carefully occupied with gazing through the microscope.

            Sherlock began to tune out the rest of the conversation as John and Molly caught up, turning his attention instead to the strange powder. The next test would provide more information on the substance and could possible give them some sort of clue with the break in. Not that he expected much out of the first ‘test’. Knowing the pH of the powder was important but really he had set it up for Hamish. Sherlock frowned when his mobile beeped in his pocket. _Mycroft!_ Always butting in! Sherlock mentally grumbled. Sighing he set down the glass beaker and checked his messages.

 

 

            **We have another body in that serial soldier case you were looking at the other day. Would you come take a look at the body? –GL**

            Not Mycroft. Interesting.

 

            _Busy. – SH_

Sherlock quickly typed out a response and went back to his experiment. Groaning when his mobile went off again.

 

            **With what? We are in St. Bart’s Morgue. Please come? – GL**

Sherlock considered it briefly before setting the phone down and turning back to the beakers in front of him. This case was more important.

 

            **I know you are upstairs. It will take five minutes. Come on! –GL**

_Mycroft!_ Sherlock thought for the second time with disdain. Sighing he turned to John who was looking at him expectantly.

            “Please don’t tell me more bad news?” John asked his shoulders tense.

            “No no, Lestrade’s downstairs with a body. I’ll be right back.” He explained watching as John’s shoulders dropped in relief.

            Sherlock moved the chemicals back and as far away from Hamish as he could before picking up his phone and waltzing out of the door.

            In no time at all he joined Lestrade in the morgue. Sally was with him, as was Jack, the other pathologist. He immediately strolled up to the body and began looking over the injuries ignoring Lestrade’s attempt at a conversation.

            This one was slightly different to the others. The man had put up a bit of a fight it seemed going on by the state of his knuckles. Sherlock examined his clothes and shoes before moving up to study the face.  That’s when he noticed it. The face was familiar, a face he had seen in a photo earlier that day.

            “Sherlock? What is it?” Lestrade prompted him having caught on to Sherlock’s frozen state.

            Without a word he pulled the photograph that John had given him earlier out of his pocket and handed it to Lestrade. Lestrade looked carefully at the photo glancing at John on the right before scanning the other faces. His eyes went wide with shock when he noticed the man in the middle to the left, the man who was undoubtedly their victim.

            “Who is this Sherlock?” Lestrade asked carefully.

            “One of John’s army mates.”

 

  

 

            “So you are clients of Sherlock’s?” Molly asked tentatively.

            “Sort of I guess.” John replied moving closer to his son.

            “How did that happen?” She prompted.

             John was quiet for a while thinking over what to tell her, it seemed. Molly had been surprised to find see him again after all these years and had been even more shocked to find that he was here with Sherlock. The two seemed at ease around each other and Sherlock was actually interacting with the child, which was even more shocking. In all the years she had known Sherlock she would never have seen this coming. John looked much the same, older yes but still just as handsome. He looked a little too thin and had a hard cast on his left wrist. She briefly wondered where his wife was. John wasn’t the type to just have a kid out of wedlock.

            “Well,” John finally said. “It all started when Hamish and I were kidnapped.”

           “What! You were what???” Molly repeated in horror. “Why?”

           “Well it turned out my wife had a secret past, one I can’t really explain but we were kidnapped to ensure her cooperation. From what I understand Sherlock was called in when they found her in her apartment.”

           Molly stayed silent. She knew what that meant, if Sherlock was called in then John’s wife had not been alive when found in her apartment. She waited for John to continue still unsure how John and his son came to be with Sherlock here.

          “Later that day Hamish was apparently dropped at the station and sort of latched on to Sherlock from what I understand. Sherlock took him home and looked after him until I was found in a hospital a few days later.” John finished.

          “I’m sorry…..Sherlock? That Sherlock? Took care of your son?” She questioned again making sure she heard right. “He can’t remember to clean my lab when he’s done making his messes but he took care of a child for days????”

          John laughed at this and after a few minutes she joined in as well. Molly still wasn’t quite sure if she believed it to be honest.

         “Yea I gather that is the most shocking thing about the whole story for everyone.” John chuckled again. “He is really good with Hamish though. Surprised himself on that I think. I’m glad he was there while I was still missing.”

         “It’s just so different from how he normally is. How was he allowed to look after him though? I wouldn’t think Inspector Lestrade would allow it.” She questioned knowing fully well Greg would have objected to the idea.

          “His brother Mycroft apparently-“

          “Say no more.” She cut him off having met the _other_ Holmes brother on a number of occasions. “If Mycroft’s involved that really explains everything.”

          “Daddy??” Hamish called drawing their attention. Hamish had pulled the safety goggles off but was still standing looking rather adorable in the over-sized lab coat.

            “Yes Hamish?”

            “Where did Sirlock go?? I thought I was going to help him??” The little boy questioned his eyes sad.

            “He just went to check something but he will be right back.” John replied before turning to her. “Molly do you have a set of prepared slides. Give him something to look at while we wait?”

            “Of course!” She said with a smile moving off to a cabinet to find a set of slides. After a few minutes she found some that the small boy would probably enjoy looking at.

            “Here we are.” She placed the case on the table and John pulled it close and picked one out before putting it on the microscope.

            “What is it?” Hamish asked suspiciously.

            “Why don’t you look and find out.” John prompted watching in amusement as Hamish peered down the scope.

            “It’s a bug!” He exclaimed hopping excitedly on the stool causing John to reach his arms forward for safety.

            “Thanks for that.” John chuckled and smiled at Molly his appreciation clear.

            “No problem. I have a nephew about his age that loves bugs and went nuts the first time I showed him these. It wasn’t hard to guess that Hamish would find them equally interesting.”

             John nodded in understanding before turning his attention to the door behind her. She turned and saw Sherlock peaking through the window gesturing John to join him.

            “Uh I’ll be right back. Would you watch him?” John asked still focused on Sherlock.

            “Of course John.” She said watching him stride from the room.

 

 

 

           John carefully stepped into the hall and found not only Sherlock but Lestrade and his sergeant as well. He closed the door and turned to the detective waiting for whatever new bomb was about to drop.

         “John you remember that case that I told you about. The soldier one?” Sherlock began.

         “Yea you said there wasn’t much to go on.” John confirmed.

         “Well the body downstairs is the latest victim and well..” Sherlock trailed off. John was really worried now, Sherlock looked concerned. Actually concerned about what he was going to tell him.

           “Spit it out.” He requested.

           “It’s Adam John.” Sherlock finished passing him the photograph John had given him earlier.

           “What?” John took the picture his mind going blank in shock.

           “I’m sorry John but the latest victim is Adam,” Sherlock paused “but that’s not all.

          “Well go on let’s get it all out.” John stared at the picture breathing heavily.

           “When I saw the picture earlier Dan looked familiar but I couldn’t place why. Now I know. I saw his face when I was looking through the files at the Met. He was a previous victim.”

            “Adam and Dan. They were both…Oh God!” John nearly dropped the picture in shock. “Why?”

            “We’re not sure.” Sherlock replied. “John I think this is more complicated than I originally presumed. None of the other victims had much to tie them together other than being wounded in Afghanistan. Now there is a link between two of them, that can not be just chance.”

            “What are you saying Sherlock?”

            “Out of the four people in that photograph two of them were killed John. Where is Bill? He could be next.”

            “No Sherlock he won’t be next.” John shook his head solemnly. He looked up at Sherlock noticing as the realization hit him. “Bill didn’t make it out of Afghanistan alive.”

            “So you’re the only person in that photograph still alive. That’s not good.”

            “What are you saying I’m next? What is this about? Why is he killing veterans?” John questioned in exasperation.

            “I don’t know John. I need more data.” Sherlock replied looking grim.

 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

And here is a drawing by yours truly of Sherlock holding Hamish. It's not much but hopefully with it you will forgive my constant lateness in updating.   
Which incidentally is also the link to my tumblr that I have finally reactivated... about time really. 

 

<http://faroreaswind.tumblr.com/post/122965818465>

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins.....*menacing music*
> 
> Did anyone see that coming?? Probably. 
> 
> Now I know Molly isn't really much like her character. I was thinking more of season three Molly when I wrote this. Pluckier, feistier still awkward and dorky but not quite so meek as they have her start out. Hope that's ok.


	15. Stuck in a Swamp of Questions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff, some seriousness and then just a bit more fluff.

           

 

            Sherlock glanced over at John who was staring resolutely out of the window. He had been quiet since they had left St. Bart’s, clearly distressed and frustrated. So far two of the victims had a link, John, and Sherlock thought there had to be a link with the other two as well. Lestrade offered to bring the files by Baker Street rather than having them come in, as if sensing John needed a quieter less rigid environment.

            The cab finally stopped and John stepped out with Hamish while Sherlock paid. John stayed silent even when they finally entered the flat, moving off to the kitchen to putter about.

            Hamish on the other hand lit up in delight at the sight of a full box of toys he had packed from their destroyed flat resting on the floor. Sherlock turned to join John in the kitchen, if nothing else to carefully study the mask that John had put in place. He was stopped when Hamish turned back to him and grabbed his hand, smiling up at him in delight. Sherlock allowed himself to be tugged forward and waited while Hamish rummaged around in the box for something. Sherlock glanced back at the kitchen and found John fiddling in front of the stove, making tea he hoped.

            “Will you play with me?” Hamish asked drawing his attention once again. The little boy was holding a colorful game box that read Candyland.

            Sherlock raised his eyebrow in surprise before nodding. He had always enjoyed games although he had never heard of this one. He watched as the Hamish delightedly opened the box and began to set up the board. Sherlock gracefully sank to the floor and studied the board and pieces in confusion. After a few minutes of preparation Hamish looked at him with a smile before picking up a colored card and then moving a small figure to a similarly colored square. Sherlock blinked in concentration trying to figure out the objective.

            “Your turn Sirlock!” Hamish announced after a few moments of waiting. So Sherlock did the only thing he could do, mimicking the boy and taking a card before moving the second figure to a corresponding color.

            He waited, watching Hamish, wondering what the next steps would be only to find the little boy repeating his actions, picking up a card and moving to a colored space. After a few frustrating rounds of this Sherlock could still not find a clear game strategy.

            “What IS the point of this game!” he groaned in frustration.

            “That would be to make it past the Licorice castle, Gumdrop Mountains and molasses swamp and into Candy Castle as fast as possible.” John explained from behind him.

            Sherlock turned and found John bearing two plates, each with a sandwich. He set one by Hamish before handing the other to Sherlock. Then disappeared into the kitchen before returning once more with his own plate. Sherlock studied the board once more before turning back to John.

            “Why?” He asked perplexed.

            “It is a race to find King Kandy before the evil Lord Licorice.” John explained with a wink to Hamish who giggled.

            “Stop speaking in nonsense John and explain properly.” Sherlock frowned.

            “Sherlock I am.” John chuckled. “It’s a kid’s game Sherlock, not chess.”

            Sherlock frowned and considered this. He looked back to Hamish who was happily munching on his sandwich and looking at Sherlock expectantly. Still baffled Sherlock plucked another square and moved his piece once more.

            “John really, what is the point of this game? What good is it for besides encouraging an obsession with sweets?” Sherlock asked.

            John had relaxed into a chair and looked marginally better than he had at St. Bart’s but despite the amusement at Sherlock, John’s eyes were still distant and pained.

            “Fun Sherlock. Just fun.” John replied with a small smile.

            Sherlock looked back to Hamish who had once again moved his bauble forward on the board and was now staring at Sherlock expectantly.

            “You find this fun?” Sherlock inquired of the little boy.

            Hamish nodded enthusiastically before looking pointedly at the plate still in Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock huffed and grabbed the sandwich, taking a small bite and fixing his eyes back on John.

            “I don’t understand John, how is this fun?” Sherlock asked incredulously.

            “Didn’t you play anything similar when you were a kid?” John replied amused.

            “Don’t be silly John! This has no science or puzzles! It doesn’t even have pirates! Why would I play a game about candy? That’s Mycroft’s obsession not mine!” He ranted huffing and turning back to move his piece yet again in the insipid board game.

            “Pirates Sherlock?” John asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

            “Yea Mycroft said he used to run about stealing their mother’s best linens for the sails on his pirate ship.” Lestrade announced from the doorway. At this John outright laughed causing Sherlock to glare at Lestrade.

            “Yoo-Hoo Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson called from somewhere behind the inspector who stepped aside graciously allowing her to enter. “Were you too distracted to hear the bell again dear?”

            Sherlock made no comment, instead taking another vicious bite of his sandwich. Lestrade moved forward and plopped down onto the sofa glancing at the game board between him and Hamish with amusement. Mrs. Hudson moved to the kitchen and began to rummage around for something.

            “Alright well I brought the case files.” Lestrade stated looking to John.

            John stiffened in his chair and glanced down at Hamish who was finishing off the last of his lunch. Sherlock looked to Lestrade and gave him a warning look.

            “Mrs. Hudson I need a favor.” Sherlock called to the woman.

            “Yes dear?” She popped around the corner.

            “I believe we are in need of some of your lovely biscuits. Would you be so kind as to whip some up? And might you need some sort of helper?” Sherlock inquired looking meaningfully down at Hamish who had perked up at the mention of biscuits.

            Mrs. Hudson glanced between the three men and then noticed the case files Lestrade had placed on the coffee table before nodding.

            “Yes alright then. But just this once dear, I’m not your babysitter.” She told him firmly before turning to Hamish. “Would you like to help me make a treat? I’ll tell you the secret to my ginger biscuits?”

            Hamish’s eyes lit up and he eagerly hopped up scattering the game pieces and cards in his haste. Sherlock frowned at the landlady’s bribe. He had tried for over a year to get her to divulge the secret to her biscuits and now she was just going to give it up to a three year old? Typical.

            Sherlock, John and Lestrade watched as Hamish and Mrs. Hudson disappeared, Hamish chatting excitedly about playing with Sherlock and explaining how he had helped him earlier in the lab. Sherlock smiled at the little boy’s retelling that became quieter and quieter as the pair made their way downstairs.

            At Lestrade’s pointed cough he rose from the floor and immediately snatched the files from the table before moving to his own chair. He opened the first file and took in the details once more. The yard had been able to identify the first two victims based on the information he had given them the first go around. The first, Cameron Austin, had been brutally beaten then shot in the head at point blank range before being stuffed into ill-fitting ragged clothes and dumped in an alleyway. The beating was particularly vicious but with no obvious rhyme or reason to it. The second, a Kyle Kirkhart, had vicious cuts across his face in addition to a beating and was likewise shot a pointblank range. Sherlock looked up to John who was staring at him, waiting. Taking a deep breath he pulled the two photos the yard had attached of the men in uniform and passed them to John.

            “Do you recognize these men?” He inquired softly.

            Sherlock saw the recognition as John stared at the pictures. John simply nodded still looking them over.

            “How do you know them? Were they some of your old army friends as well?” Lestrade piped up.

            “No. Not really. They were both stationed at the same base in Kandahar. Captain Kirkhart was a helicopter pilot who brought in the wounded. Private Austin was an ambulance driver that brought wounded in and out. I worked in the field hospital there so I saw them both frequently. We were never on close terms though.” John finished his eyes growing distant suddenly.

            “And Adam and Dan?” Sherlock prodded softly.

            “Adam, Dan and Bill were in a special forces team that used our base as a home base. Bill was their medical officer he and I trained together at St. Bart’s. I met Adam and Dan through him.” John explained. “Sherlock do you think whoever broke into my flat killed them?”

            “It’s possible. It is a strange coincidence that military pictures were taken from your house and your army friends are found dead. It doesn’t quite make sense though. Dan was found last week and Adam this morning. Your flat was broken into sometime early yesterday morning. There is the possibility he was there looking for you and moved on when you were unavailable.” Sherlock stood up and began to pace the room. “But why would the killer need pictures? It doesn’t make sense! He found them through military records before so why would he need a picture of them now?”

            “Adam.” John stated.

            “What do you mean?” Sherlock turned to him studying his drawn face and slightly shaking hand.

            “The unit was taken hostage when the last mission went south. Adam and the remanding unit were able to escape but only after being held for three weeks. Adam was the ranking officer and got the brunt of the treatment during that time. When he got back well, understandably, he was never the same. He became a recluse, paranoid of the world. It took me and Dan months to find him and even then he only ever let us visit once a year, it became sort of a tradition. I’m fairly sure we were the only ones who knew where he lived.”

            Sherlock took this in and mulled it over. It explained a lot. What was even more illuminating was what John wasn’t saying. Sherlock thought back to a conversation he had had with John a few nights ago. _‘_ _Their medical officer was killed in action and they needed a replacement’._ Bill was most likely the medical officer that he replaced. Then there was the way John had explained about Adam. He had used the term ‘the unit’ not ‘their unit’ or Adam’s unit, which would have definitively excluded himself. He also hadn’t said ‘our unit’ meaning John did not wish to talk about it. With the undefined ‘the’ John could be assumed to be discussing the unit as an outsider, not admitting that he was apart of it. John was looking at him with solemn eyes. He knew what Sherlock had pieced together and was asking him silently to let it go. Sherlock gave the slightest of nods before turning towards the window.

            “Presumably you had his address written down somewhere in your flat. With all the chaos it would have been hard to notice.” He continued on.

            “Yea. I didn’t really need it anymore to be honest but it was more for safety’s sake, in case something happened and Harry needed to get ahold of me when I was visiting him.” John confirmed.

            “Why couldn’t he have found the address at Dan’s?” Sherlock asked.

            “Well Dan probably didn’t have it written down. Dan was living alone and didn’t have a lot of close family that might need to contact him quickly.” John explained.

            “The question still remains then why did he feel the need to take the pictures?” Sherlock returned.

            “Well Adam’s address was written on the back of that picture.” John grimaced. “I didn’t think anyone would actually go looking for Adam to harm him or anything but I still felt I was honor bound to hide his location as best as I was able. I figured there no one would find it there.”

            “So how did our killer?” Lestrade asked drawing both of their attentions.

            “That is a very good question.” Sherlock replied sitting in his chair once more and pouring over the files.

            “So why is he doing this? Do you still think it is some sort of anti-war thing?” Lestrade asked leaning forward.

            “No. Before all that connected the victims was the fact that they were all military and killed roughly in the same manner. Now there is more to connect them.” Sherlock returned still looking through the files for any other hints.

            “More? What more?”

            “John, Lestrade. They all knew John.” Sherlock expounded.

            “Jesus Christ.” John swore under his breath.

            “There has to be something here. Can you think of any reason anyone would target you or these men?” Sherlock looked up at John.

            “At the moment no. I mean it was a while back but I can't think of anyone who would have a vendetta against them or me. I mean Adam, Dan and I were completely separate from Kirkhart and Austin. We didn't associate very much. I have no idea what could link us all together for it to make sense.” John returned worriedly.

            “Well what now Sherlock?” Lestrade sighed in frustration. “All we have is even more questions and not the slightest hint to their answers.”

            “Now we wait. I will continue to look over the notes and files. Other than that there is not much we can do.” Sherlock conceded. “However, John is likely the next target so it might be prudent to up the surveillance and security around the flat.”

             He hated to suggest it. Mycroft already asserted himself into his life for ‘protection’ reasons far to often. One look at John and he knew that the Doctor hated the idea as well.

            “If that is even possible,” Lestrade snorts. “I’m pretty sure if Myc upped it anymore there would be a tank outside and missiles on the roof.”

            “Jesus this is like being on house arrest!” John groaned. “I suppose this means I shouldn’t look for a local job to occupy my time?”

            “Probably not. At least not until this is resolved.” Sherlock answered.

            “I’m going to end up shooting something.” John lamented dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling.

            After a long silence there was a thumping from the stairwell, as if an overexcited puppy was on it’s way up. There was a faint call from Mrs. Hudson to be careful before her chuckle echoed up to them.

            “On the upside I believe those biscuits might be done.” Sherlock smiled slightly looking to the stairs.

            Hamish ran in not to long after grinning from ear to ear. He had flour in his hair and on his jumper and batter along his cheek. The little boy was carrying a plate full of deformed biscuits proudly, bringing them straight to John to inspect.

            “Ta-da!” Hamish announced making all three of the men smile at his exuberance.

            “Well done!” John congratulated him with a chuckle reaching to take one.

            “No!” Hamish jerked the plate back surprising John. Hamish looked over he plate before plucking one up and handing it to John. “This one is yours.”

            Hamish moved to Lestrade and similarly handed him a specific biscuit before moving to Sherlock. Sherlock took the proffered food and eyed it carefully. It was deformed but smelled fine and wasn’t over cooked.

            “Why does it look funny?” He asked the boy.

            “Not funny!” Hamish explained exasperation showing clearly on his face. “Daddy gets cross cause he’s a doctor, Greg gets a star for a police badge and you get a miroscope.”

            Hamish looks proud as he announces this smiling up at him. Sherlock looks over to John and Lestrade who are both eyeing their biscuit with fond smiles. He examined his own once more and still only found a blob shaped item.

            “Of course it is.” He acknowledged swallowing back his need to correct and instead smiled. “A perfect likeness.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!!!!! My boss changed my schedule last minute last week and I ended up working through the weekend (which I was previously scheduled to have off) Then after working 8 days straight when I finally did get a few days off I crashed. I have been assured that my schedule should not change again so abruptly (but then again that is what she said last time so....who knows.) As long as I'm not thrown anymore curve balls I hope to post regularly tues/wed of every week. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this next bit. I have a feeling this is going to end up being close to 40 chapters by the time I get done... I just keep thinking of things I want to include and then you know there is that whole plot thing that needs to be wrapped up (and will hopefully make sense when it is all said and done). and yes this is tagged as a Johnlock relationship and it will be. Just kind of a slow build. Any other cute moments you guys would like to see with Hamish? 
> 
> As I have said before I apologize for any mistakes! Let me know if they are bothersome! One of these days I will get around to editing all of this properly. I am also an American so all I know about Brit culture has been absorbed from the internet and other fics that I have read. If you have any tips or corrections please don't hesitate!


	16. The story behind the skull.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's stoic facade finally falls and Sherlock tries to help.

 

 

            Sherlock stilled as he heard John make his way back downstairs after tucking a sleepy Hamish in. After Hamish’s interruption earlier all talk concerning the case had ceased and John had spent the rest of the afternoon playing with Hamish and intently avoiding Sherlock’s gaze.

           Sherlock watched the pair all afternoon over his laptop where he was researching PTSD. The only way John might remember something helpful is if he is willing to actively talk about his time in Afghanistan. At present getting Mycroft to give up sugar entirely would probably be an easier task.The fact that the father and son had completed the previously half-finished puzzle and finished another one had not escaped Sherlock’s notice and was probably the largest indicator that John was worried. John was stressed and tense but seemed, in true British fashion, to desire nothing more than to bury those feelings away and ignore them until they became a larger problem. This peeved Sherlock to no end of course. He himself was not given to expound on his feelings on any matter but he was most curious about John’s past and he found John’s increasing anxiety uncomfortable and for some reason he could not fathom he wanted to make it dissipate.

            “Hamish finally asleep then?” Sherlock asked when he heard John enter the kitchen behind him.

            “Yes. He insisted on a proper three stories before he finally drifted off because that’s how many ‘Sirlock’ reads, so thanks for that by the way.” John replied grabbing a glass and moving off to the fridge.

            “I’ve only read to him before bed that once so I have no idea where he got that particular idea from.” Sherlock defended without looking up from his experiment.

            “Sometimes once is all it takes.” John responded with a smile sipping his recently poured milk. “Mind if I watch the telly for a bit?”

            “Hm not at all. I perfected the ability to tune out pointless things when I was three and Mycroft was attempting to teach me etiquette.”

            “Right then.” John snorted in amusement before moving off to the sitting room.

            Sherlock frowned and looked up to stare at John’s retreating back. He had hoped that once Hamish had gone to bed John might be willing to answer a few of his questions but it seemed that this was not to be the case. When he heard the telly click on he snapped his attention back to the strange powder he was testing. At least something about this night could be productive.

 

           

            “No get back! Get back!” John said loudly from the next room.

            Sherlock blinked and looked up from his microscope. He glanced at the time and noted it was half past two. Who on earth was John calling to at this hour? Sherlock pushed his chair back and carefully made his way into the sitting room frowning when he saw that John was alone and apparently sleeping on the sofa.

            “Dan get Adam!” John called reaching out his body jerking violently.

            _Oh!_ Nightmare. Sherlock immediately began to mentally scan through everything he had read earlier about helping someone come out of a flashback. He knew that any sort of touch could be a complete disaster so that was out. Perhaps calling to him gently might be helpful, there had been a few websites that had advocated that approach. He thought moving closer to John’s tense form.

            “John.” Sherlock said calmly but firmly. “John wake up.”

            “No. No we have to get him out. He’s not going to last much longer!” John said panicked.

            “John you are safe in London. This is Sherlock Holmes. You have a son Hamish. You are no longer in the army John.” Sherlock continued fervently hoping that this would help to wake him.

            “London?” John repeated confused, his body still tensed for action.

            “Yes John, London. You are having a dream. You are safe.” Sherlock repeated watching as John’s body began to relax.

            Slowly John opened his eyes, still breathing heavily, he focused on Sherlock. He wiped the sweat from his brow and sat up from his reclined position on the sofa carefully.

            “Tea?” Sherlock asked quietly. John looked up at him as if trying to decide if Sherlock was asking for it or offering. “Or something stronger?”

            “Stronger.” John replied hoarsely realization dawning on his face.

            Sherlock quietly made his way back to the kitchen, giving John a chance to collect himself in private. Once in the kitchen he pulled the exceptional Scotch Mycroft had given him for Christmas out and poured two generous measures into glasses. By the time he returned to the sitting room John had calmed himself fully and was staring a hole through the coffee table.

            Sherlock placed a glass on the table in John’s sight and moved off to sit on the now unoccupied side of the sofa. Perhaps if John didn’t have to look directly at him it would be easier to talk about things. After a few moments John reached forward and snagged the glass giving it a thoughtful look before tasting a bit. Humming in appreciation John then sat back once more, glass still in hand, and began staring once more.

            “You stayed up late watching pointless telly on purpose.” Sherlock stated.

            “Yep.” John nodded then after a few moments explained further. “I had a feeling tonight might not be a good night, with all the memories and events that have cropped up the past few days it was likely to happen. I really didn’t fancy scaring, or worse hurting my son.”

            “Sensible.” Sherlock replied.

            “I wish I hadn’t finished those puzzles with Hamish earlier now. It would be nice to go through my usual routine.” John sighed taking another swig of the whiskey.

            Sherlock looked over to the skull that rested on his mantelpiece. Perhaps if John knew some of his own history he would be willing to talk this out.

            “Sometimes it helps to discuss it. Would you like to?” Sherlock asked.

            “Hm not sure. Never really went that route. Used to drive my therapist nuts.” John turned to him with half a smile.

            “Therapists are overbearing, arrogant, calculating idiots convinced they can solve everyone’s problems with a simple pill or diagnosis, of course it annoyed her.” Sherlock chuckled.

            “Therapists are not useless Sherlock.” John replied chuckling slightly despite his comment.

            “Mine were.” Sherlock quipped.

            “You saw a therapist?” John turned to him in mild shock.

            “Hm. Seven in fact.”

            “Why?” John looked appalled.

            “My parents were convinced something was wrong with me because I didn’t get along with people or act normal and wanted a pill to fix it.”

            “And why the seven?”

            “Well the first lasted only five minutes. I resented being there so as soon as my parents left the room I deduced that the woman was sleeping with four of her patients, two of which were underage. That was more than enough to get her to resign with the excuse that she couldn’t help. The second therapist lasted slightly longer, ten minutes, but he was selling pills on the side to kids on the street so he too made a hasty exit.”

            “Dear god. They can’t all have been doing something illegal.” John replied his eyes wide.

            “No they weren’t, only the first two unfortunately. It made getting the other’s to resign or fired much more difficult.”

            “What did you do to them?” John asked his eyebrows going up.

            “I would mimic the signs or symptoms of a neurological disorder while in therapy and then deliberately act normal with my parents so that they thought the therapists where wrong. I was labeled Bipolar, schizophrenic, various personality disorders, obsessive compulsive, and Sociopathic. You name it I faked it.”

            “Oh my god. How did your parents figure it all out?” John laughed.

            “Mycroft came home for break and informed them of my game. They stopped wasting their time with it then.” Sherlock smiled back.

            John chuckled once more and sipped more of the Scotch. They sat in silence for a while, John clearly lost in thought. Sherlock wondered if John would ever feel comfortable talking about the things that plagued his dreams. Whatever it was could be linked to the case but he was not about to badger John into reliving what was probably the worst experience in his life.

            “Sherlock,” John finally said looking at him once more. “You said it helps to discus things like this, almost like you once needed to yourself. If you didn’t talk to your therapists who did you talk to?”

            “My grandfather.” Sherlock said after a long pause. He took a swig of his drink and looked to John who was still waiting in anticipation. “He was the only one, besides Mycroft, who ever took the time to really pay attention to me. He encouraged my inductive and deductive reasoning skills much to the dismay of my parents. He thought it was brilliant and unique.”

            “It is.” John agreed with a small smile.

            “Yes well.” Sherlock coughed “As I got older I starting having more and more problems in school. I’m sure you can imagine I was not well liked. I was miles ahead of the other students in intelligence and had virtually no social skills.”

            “Bullied?” John asked frowning.

            “Hm.” Sherlock hummed in agreement. “Quite heavily. My Grandfather found me one evening hiding in the attic nursing a very bruised face and eventually coaxed me into explaining. After that he notified the school of what was happening. He also taught me a bit of boxing until he was to weak to do so, then he just paid for me to learn martial arts from a private instructor.”

            “He sounds like a great man.” John smiled sadly.

            “He was.” Sherlock looked to the skull once more with a small smile.

            “Sherlock is that…? The skull??” John asked. Sherlock turned to find John’s attention fixed on the skull as well, having followed Sherlock’s gaze, his face full of curiosity and shock.

            “Yes.” He responded simply. “He died of lung cancer and in his will he bequeathed me his skull so that quote ‘You will always have someone to talk to.’”

            “That’s rather sweet although in an extremely morbid way.” John’s face had softened at the explanation.

            “Well I certainly didn’t get my appreciation of the morbid from my parents.” Sherlock quipped enjoying John’s chuckle.

            They lapsed into a comfortable silence after that. Sherlock drained the rest of his glass, as did John. Sherlock waited a few more moments before getting up and retrieving the bottle. If John didn’t wish to talk then perhaps one more drink would allow him to relax enough to get some rest. Once he had poured them both a bit more Sherlock sat again on the sofa quietly waiting until John decided to talk or lapsed back into sleep.

            “It was about a week or so after Bill was shot that I decided I didn’t want to work in the hospital anymore.” John finally began after a long while. His eyes were closed and his hand clenched around the glass. “I needed a change, an escape, from where I was. It was Adam’s idea for me to join their team, said it would be good for all the three of us to support each other. They were taking his death hard as well. It was stupid really to form such deep personal relationships while out there; we knew it from the start. When I switched to their unit things got better, we started moving past the grief a little. The whole unit worked well as a team, we all had skills that fit nicely together and trusted each other with everything. That last mission though, I have no idea what happened. We had only been given the orders that morning and it was meant to be a spur of the moment operation.”

            “That’s not what happened though.” Sherlock stated.

            “No. It was like they knew exactly what we were going to do. They knew how many of us there was and they ambushed us halfway to our destination. An IED hit our vehicle killing four of our guys instantly. I was in the back with Adam, Dan and a few others and when we were hit most of us were flung out of the back. I hit my head on something and blacked out.” John paused taking a quick sip of the drink clasped in his shaking hands and then with a deep breath continued. “When I came to the remaining men were all crammed in this cave that had been modified into a cell. Max and Dylan both had severe burns due to their proximity to the blast; they died from infection a week later. The rest of us, Adam, Dan, Holland and I had only heavy bruising and some minor lacerations. The next few weeks though were tough and I really don’t think I can…”

            “It’s fine John.” Sherlock assured him quietly.

            “Right.” John took a calming breath. He took the glass with his right hand and moved his still shaking left off to the side. “Well we had managed to come up with a plan of escape that thinking back on it probably had a 75% chance of just getting us killed.”

            “But it worked.” Sherlock commented.

            “Yea, note entirely sure how to be honest. Dan was in the best shape of us all. Adam was only half conscious, Holland had a broken foot and I got shot on the way out. It really shouldn’t have worked to be honest.”

            John finished his tale and drained what was left of his drink before depositing the glass on the table. Sherlock carefully thought through all of the details. The ambush seemed rather suspicious but he wasn’t sure if it actually had any bearing on the case at hand. He turned to John who was staring at the skull across the room.

            “Where is Holland now?” He asked carefully.

            “Still out there as far as I know. Once his foot healed he was cleared for duty once more. Do you think he’s a target?” John turned to him worry clouding his expression his body tense again.

            “I’m not sure, but it’s best not to rule anything out. Don’t worry I’ll pass his name on to Mycroft who will take care of it.”

            John nodded and dropped his head to the back of the sofa shutting his eyes once more. Sherlock watched as John gradually relaxed little by little. There were still clear signs of distress, the tremor in his left hand that he was trying hard to hide for one.

            “I think that actually might have helped a little.” John admitted without moving.

            “I’m glad.” Sherlock set the remainder of his drink on the table and reclined back on the sofa.

            “Is it so much to ask for just one normal day? Everyday I wake up hoping that it will just be calm and not filled with mur-murdered…friends” John stuttered. “break-ins, kidnappings or anything else the universe can throw at me.”

            “What would you do on this normal day?” Sherlock asked turning his head towards John.

            “Just relaxing. Maybe taking Hamish somewhere fun.” John replied without opening his eyes.

            “That could probably be arranged.” Sherlock decided.

            At this John opened his eyes and rolled his head towards Sherlock giving him a big smile.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok first I am soooooo sorry!!! I know I'm such a tease! I say I'm planning on updating Tues/weds and here it is Saturday night........  
> I had a different version of the chapter ready for wed which included a shorter version of this chapter in addition to a bit of fluff but I decided that this moment needed to be expanded and explored. I like the idea of Sherlock trying to draw John out, somewhat for selfish curiosity and somewhat to actually help. I hope I managed it while still having Sherlock stay mostly in character.  
> And just to be clear John is still processing everything that happens and the loss of his friends will still trouble and hover over him for quite some time.  
> The next chapter will be the fluff that was originally going to be in this one but with lots more added in. :) 
> 
> Second can I just say that you guys are absolutely awesome!!!! almost 300 subscribers and 450+ kudos! You guys are the best! seriously!  
> And please if something I am doing is off-putting or distracting in the writing please let me know. Con crit is welcome, I only ask that you be respectful in your delivery. 
> 
> Third I should probably mention that I do not have anything against therapists at all. They can be a big help and Sherlock's little tirade here is purely what I thought his character would do. Also I have never met anyone going through PTSD, so all of this is just research from the internet. If I'm being grossly inaccurate please inform me. As stated before what happens in this chapter is just the tip of John starting to deal with what is happening, and my head cannon is that he generally likes to bottle up all of it because to him admitting it is a weakness, when really the bottling up causes him more harm. Hence why Sherlock getting him to actually talk about it gave him a little relief. 
> 
> right I think that's probably enough of my comments for now. I hope to have the next chapter out sooner than last time but I'm not going to promise a specific day. I learned my lesson on that one!  
> All mistakes are my own and eventually I'll go back through and edit!
> 
> \--Ren


	17. Looks can be deceiving.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John take Hamish on a fun outing where Sherlock shows off, Hamish learns some useful facts and John is just along for the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!!!!

 

            Sherlock watched as John contemplated his statement. He wasn’t sure exactly what he would do while John spent his time with Hamish. Finish running his tests on that powder probably, he thought. For some reason though that didn’t make him nearly as excited as it once would have. It would be the first time in about a week that he was alone and that alone should have thrilled him. Instead all he could think about was John and Hamish having fun without him.

            “Are you sure that’s possible? I mean with everything going on?” John asked looking skeptically at Sherlock.

            “Mycroft can surely provide sufficient security for you wherever you decide to take Hamish. If you text him he will probably send a car for you to use as well.”

            “What about you?” John looked at him confused.

            “I’ll spend the day analyzing that powder I found.” Sherlock explained looking across at his skull.

            “No, that’s not what I meant Sherlock. You aren’t going to come?” John asked.

            “I thought you wanted to spend time with him?” Sherlock shot back confused.

            “I didn’t say it had to be exclusive.” John chuckled before continuing. “Besides he’ll want you to come.”

            Sherlock just looked at him in astonishment. Why would Hamish want him to come on the outing? His dad was back why would he want Sherlock to come?

            “What would be the purpose of me coming?” Sherlock finally asked.

            “Sherlock it can’t have escaped your noticed that he likes you.” John snickered. “He will want you to come for the same reason as he would want me, or Harry to come if she was available, just to spend time with him.”

            “Alright then.” Sherlock stated after a long while. He noticed John was starting to blink sleepily and moved himself over to his chair grabbing his laptop on his way. Time to do more research it seemed.

           

John opened his eyes, slowly adjusting to the light streaming through the window. He stretched carefully before sitting up and noticed Sherlock curled up in his chair still absorbed in his laptop, just as he was last night, before John finally drifted off to sleep once more.

            “Sherlock have you been there all night? Did you sleep at all?” John wondered curiously.

            “Hm yes.” Sherlock answered unhelpfully without looking from the screen.

            “Was that a yes to the sleep or a yes to being there all night?” John asked confused.

            “Hm.” Was all Sherlock offered this time.

            Rolling his eyes John stood and made his way to the kitchen. Clearly Sherlock wouldn’t answer until he was finished reading whatever it was that had captured his attention. In the meantime John could start on a nice breakfast.

            He put the kettle on for some much-needed tea then placed some bread in to toast before scrambling some eggs. John thought through what he might like to do that day. He had told Sherlock last night that it would be nice to just have one day to relax and do something fun with Hamish not really thinking that he could do that. Everything had been so serious lately and John desperately needed to do something that would divert his attention for a short time. Perhaps the cinema was playing a child-friendly movie he thought idly.

            “Aquarium.” Sherlock announced from behind him startling him slightly. John turned to find Sherlock standing in the doorway looking at John with a satisfied expression.

            “What?” John inquired.

            “We should take Hamish to the Aquarium.” Sherlock stated with a look that clearly said, _Do catch up John._

            “The aquarium? Really? Isn’t that a bit much?” John asked divvying up the eggs. “I was thinking something simple like the cinema and then maybe the park.”

            “Please John, the aquarium has much more to offer than the cinema.” Sherlock scoffed. “At least he can learn things from the aquarium.”

            “Aquarum?” a small voice asked.

            John turned to find Hamish had joined them. The little boy was blinking sleepily, his pajamas slightly askew and the stuffed elephant hanging from one hand. John placed the food on the table, which prompted Hamish to quickly crawl into a chair.

            “Yes Hamish the Aquar-i-um.” Sherlock said carefully.

            “Aquar-i-um.” Hamish repeated smiling as Sherlock nodded in approval.

            “Yes, wouldn’t you like to go there today? They have lots of fish to observe and learn about.” Sherlock offered.

            “Like whales?” Hamish asked tilting his head to the side.

            “The London Aquarium doesn’t have any whales I’m afraid and whales are not technically fish, although I can see how you would classify them as such. Whales are actually mammals like you and I. There will be other animals there that live in the water though, turtles, penguins to name a few.”

            Hamish's face lit up at the mention of turtles and lost its previous confused expression over learning that whales were not fish. He looked over to John with hopeful doe eyes.

            “You two.” John sighed rolling his eyes at Sherlock’s triumphant expression.

            Sherlock turned to escape down the hall, to no doubt put on some expensive suit.

            “Ah-ah ah. Only if you eat breakfast Sherlock.” John called laughing at the scowling expression he received in return.

 

 

           

 

            “Look at the fish Daddy!!” Hamish giggled as he ran back and forth in front of the tank chasing the fish as they swam past.

            Sherlock watched as John smiled, his expression bursting with love for the little boy. Hamish’s eyes had filled with wonder from the moment they had entered the building.

            “Alright I admit it. This is exponentially better than a movie and the park.” John said turning to him with a huge grin on his face.

            “Obviously.” Sherlock smirked.

            Hamish turned and continued his little jog, ending right in front of them.

            “Why’d you stop Hamish? Don’t like the fish anymore?” John asked curiously.

            Hamish turned and pointed to the tank where a large tiger shark was making its way by.

            “Scary.” Hamish informed them as if it should be obvious.

            “Sharks are nothing to be afraid of Hamish. Really there are far more deadly things in this aquarium than that.” Sherlock explained to the little boy.

            “Sherlock! Don’t tell him that.” John exclaimed.

            “Come here Hamish.” Sherlock stepped towards the tank and motioned to the small boy ignoring John’s protest.

            Hamish came forward slowly keeping a wary eye on the shark. He positioned himself right next to Sherlock’s leg and began to perform an excellent impression of a leech, gripping Sherlock’s trousers tightly. Sighing Sherlock picked the boy up and pointed at the shark.

            “See how it is constantly moving Hamish? Now look at that fish over there, perfectly still.” He pointed down at a small angelfish that was hiding in some rocks. “Now sharks can never stay still or they will die. What is so scary about a creature that would die if it stayed still hmm? You are much stronger than that aren’t you? If you stay still you won’t die right?”

            “No.” Hamish replied still looking warily at the shark in question.

            “Did you know that you have a greater chance at being killed by a bee or struck by lightening then being attacked by a shark?” Sherlock stated.

            “A bee?” Hamish looked at him clearly in doubt.

            “Just because it’s small doesn’t mean it can’t be deadly. Humans kill far more sharks than sharks kill humans.” Sherlock replied. “Did you know that sharks have no bones at all?”

            “No bones? At all?” Hamish looked quickly back at the shark.

            “Nope. It allows them much greater flexibility than other fish. They are also one of the oldest animals on earth. They were around even before the dinosaurs.”

            Hamish’s eyes grew wide at this new piece of information. He turned back to the shark and leaned forward to get a better look.

            “Sharks can even detect electrical currents in the water with a special set of nerves that are spaced around their head.”

            “Why would they need that?” John asked next to him. Sherlock jumped minutely surprised.

            “It’s believed to help with navigation as well as locating prey.” Sherlock looked over at John who was also staring at the Sharks swimming by.

            “Big.” Hamish pointed to a rather large bull shark that was swimming close to the bottom.

            “Yes that one is quite big. Not as a big as a whale shark though.” Sherlock smiled at the identical expressions of confusion that John and Hamish wore. “A whale shark is the largest fish in the ocean and can be as large as 18 meters.”

            John’s eyes widened at that number.

            “That’s about the size of a nine story building.” John commented with a whistle. “But why is it called a whale shark?”

            “While it is closer in relation to a shark, no bones, similar morphology, it acts more like a whale, specifically in its feeding habits.” Sherlock explained.

            “Bet you can only see those in the wild huh?” John said with a smile.

            “There are a few aquariums that are large enough to exhibit them. Mainly in Asia, although there is one aquarium in America that has a few I believe.” Sherlock responded looking back to Hamish.

            Hamish was now watching the sharks with rampant curiosity instead of fear, having ignored most of John and Sherlock’s conversation.

            “If he turns out to be a shark enthusiast because of this and gets eaten later on in life I’m going to murder you.” John stated in jest.

            “If Hamish develops a curiosity of the sea that leads to a career studying it I wouldn’t be worried about the sharks if I were you.” Sherlock replied moving over to a smaller tank on a different wall. “These are box jellyfish Hamish, and some species are deadly enough to kill you within 3-5 minutes from just a touch. Much more deadly than a shark.”

            Hamish who was still seated on Sherlock’s hip leaned forward to look at the soft jelly-like creatures that floated about in the tank.

            “So small. Don’t look very scary” Hamish stated looking up at him.

            “Just goes to show you that it’s not always the largest and scariest things that are the most deadly.” John commented.

            “Indeed.” Sherlock agreed thinking back to a certain army doctor who killed three men to escape captivity but now stood in front of him looking exceptionally harmless in a beige jumper.

He turned and set Hamish down allowing him to wander on his own once more. Hamish quickly scampered off to the next tank of floating jelly’s watching in fascination as a multicolored light caused the creatures to glow different colors.

            “I didn’t know you were such an authority on sea creatures.” John commented. “Is it a secret hobby of yours?”

            “No. I knew very little about any of it until last night.” Sherlock replied following alongside John as they trailed the little boy through the exhibits.

            “Is that what you were doing all last night?” John stopped and looked up at him in astonishment. “Reading about fish?”

            “Was that wrong?” Sherlock shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably.

            “No, not at all,” John smiled. “Just a bit surprising I suppose. I can’t imagine you would have much use for all of this.”

            “Much of it will probably be deleted after today.” Sherlock shrugged. “Although I’ll probably keep the information on jellyfish toxins. They would make for a very interesting study.”

            “Deleted?” John questioned resuming their walk.

            “Yes. Any information that is superfluous I delete from my mind so that I don’t have a large amount of useless data taking up space.”  

            “Of course you do.” John chuckled.

            The rounded the next corner, with Hamish leading the way, and came upon a touch pool. Hamish ran ahead excitedly causing both men to smile.

            “Hey I’m going to pop off to the loo for a moment ok?” John announced.

            “Alright. We’ll stay in this area.” Sherlock promised before catching up to Hamish.

            Hamish, barely tall enough to see over the barrier, was peeking down into the pool and watching a crab intently. He looked up at Sherlock with a smile and pointed down.

            “Look!”

            “Would you like to touch it?” Sherlock asked him. Hamish nodded and then quickly frowned.

            “Can’t reach.” He explained.

            Sherlock smiled and scooped him up causing Hamish to giggle profusely. Holding him by the waist, Sherlock carefully positioned him so that Hamish could reach in and touch the wandering crab.

            “What about that anemone there? Why don’t you touch it?” Sherlock prompted him.

           Hamish hesitated briefly, considering the suggested strange pink creature. Sensing his nervousness over touching such a strange looking creature Sherlock reached in and touched it first. Emboldened by this Hamish reached his hand forward and touched the squishy animal. Sherlock smiled broadly at the delighted giggle Hamish gave.

           “Is he your son?” A voice from beside him asked.

           Sherlock turned to find petite blonde woman gazing at Hamish with a smile. Sherlock considered her question for a moment before deciding on answering in the positive. It would be far easier claiming Hamish as his son than explaining the truth.

           “Yes.” He replied simply keeping an eye on Hamish as the little boy continued to explore the small organisms in the pool.

           “He is absolutely adorable.” The woman smiled at him taking a step closer. “And you are very sweet and gentle with him.”

           “Ah thank you.” Sherlock responded trying to think of a way to get her to leave, adjusting his hold as Hamish began to wiggle.

           He carefully put Hamish down allowing the little boy to roam free once more. Hamish immediately scampered over to a nearby tank with sea horses. Sherlock smiled briefly at the woman before hastily following, silently thanking Hamish for giving him an escape. He stood silently behind as the little boy peered through the glass.

           “He’s quite the curious one isn’t he?” The voice asked again from beside him.

           Sherlock turned to find that the woman had followed them.

           “Yes he is.” Sherlock stated not sure what else to say to that.

           “My nephews are around here somewhere, they didn’t see much point in the smaller animals like these.” She explained sidling closer to him. Flirting. She was flirting with him. Sighing once more he turned prepared to deduce all of her secrets when Hamish interrupted his thoughts.

           “Daddy!” Hamish called happily running over to where he had spotted John walking back towards them.

           “Hey bud! What did you see while I was gone?” John asked scooping him up and walking the rest of the distance over.

           “Funny looking snakes.” Hamish explained pointing to the tank.

           “Those are seahorses and pipefish Hamish.” Sherlock corrected watching the woman look back and forth from him to John repeatedly.

           “Oh! You two are together! How cute!!!” She exclaimed. “How long have you two been together? Did you adopt Hamish or have a surrogate?”

           Sherlock froze and felt his face heating up. He looked over at John who was staring at them with a puzzled expression.

           “Aunt Julie!!!! Come on!” A boy of around ten exclaimed impatiently running over and tugging on the woman to follow. She smiled and waved goodbye before being pulled away. Sherlock relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief watching happily as the woman left.

           “What was she on about?” John asked watching her being dragged around the corner looking hopelessly confused.

           “No idea.” Sherlock coughed. “So Hamish what next?”

           “Pengwings!!!!” Hamish announced excitedly.

           “Alright Penguins it is.” Sherlock acquiesced moving off before John could question further. “Come along John!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesh Sorry this took so long to post! I had half of it written and then kinda got lost in my head for a bit which made it extremely difficult to write a fun happy fluff chapter when I was feeling anything but. Luckily I found my way out again and convinced myself to finish this! (After re-writing the beginning like four times) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this. Being a marine biologist I really couldn't help but indulge in my desire to see them in an aquarium with Hamish so sorry about that. Can't you just see Sherlock scheming to have jellyfish toxins somehow delivered to 221b with the sole purpose of experimenting on how it affects toe decomposition or something? Thanks to Ragnhild for the inspiration to have someone mistake them as a couple. Such a cute idea!!! I hope it's everything you imagined, and in case you were wondering it will be brought up again later :) 
> 
> You guys are truly amazing!!! Thank you all!!!!! Also if anyone would like to beta let me know! You can find me here:  
> http://faroreaswind.tumblr.com
> 
> Next chapter will start off with what Mycroft was up to while John and Sherlock are off having fun but don't worry there will be a bit about John and sherlock as well.


	18. What we do for family.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Major Holland.

 

 

            “Major Holland to see you sir.” Anthea announced through the intercom.

            “Send him through.” Mycroft asked glancing over to where Gregory was seated.

            “Well good thing I got here early eh?” Greg quirked an eyebrow at him.

            The door to his office opened diverting his attention. A blonde man in dark wash jeans and a tucked in black shirt stepped in, his eyes flitting about the room cautiously. Mycroft watched as the man’s eyes took in the windows and the door on the other side of the room, assessing escape options no doubt. Side effect of being a soldier? Mycroft wondered if John did that as well. The man looked intently at Gregory before turning his focus on him.

            “You must be Mr. Holmes.” The man stated.

            “Major Holland, thank you for coming so promptly.” Mycroft stood and offered his hand.

            “Please just Holland these days. Haven’t been called Major in a year at least.” Holland smiled shaking his hand.

            “Of course, can I offer you some tea?” Mycroft asked politely gesturing for the man to be seated.

            Major Holland seemed comfortable for the most part, although clearly curious as to why he was here. Despite a scar running the length of his face his expression was open and friendly.

            “No I’m fine thanks.” Holland replied his gaze flitting towards Gregory.

            “Alright then. May I introduce you to Detective Inspector Lestrade?” Mycroft waved towards Greg.

            “Hello.” Holland smiled briefly at Greg before looking back at Mycroft.

            “Well, I’m sure you’re curious as to why I asked you here today Mr. Holland.” Mycroft stated.

            “Yes.” Holland nodded looking slightly confused.

            “Mr. Holland I’m working a case at the moment that involves a string of murders. I was hoping might be able to shed some light on something. It is also my duty to inform you that you also might be in a bit of danger.” Greg chimed in.

            “How?” Holland cocked an eyebrow.

            “Well all of the victims were ex-military, and I’m sorry to inform you of this but you knew two of them.” Gregory informed him.

            “Who?” Holland asked looking rather alarmed.

            “A Daniel Weston and Adam Mecredy.”  Greg replied.

            Holland’s eyes grew wide at the names. The man sighed heavily and shifted in his seat.

            “How did they..?” He finally asked looking back and forth between Greg and Mycroft.

            “I have the file if you want to take a look, but be warned it’s not pretty.” Greg offered a folder.

            “Unfortunately there’s not much that can faze me anymore.” Holland replied bitterly.

            “There are two other men in there as well.  Not sure if you know them or not but anything you can tell us about any of them would be helpful.” Gregory continued.

            “Two more?” Holland paused grasping the file thinking hard for a few moments before staring intently at them. “You brought me here because I new two of the victims and you think I might be in danger. Have you contacted Captain Watson? He knew them far better than I and if you think I could be in danger then surely so could he.”

            “Rest assured Mr. Holland, John is currently in protective custody.” Mycroft reassured him.

            “Protective custody?” Holland’s lip quirked slightly. “I bet he hates that.”

            “I’m not sure I know of his opinions on the matter.” Mycroft conceded.

            “How long did it take you to get him to agree?” Holland finally pulled the folder into his lap still looking up at Mycroft with faint amusement.

            “Dr. Watson has had a troubling few months I am afraid. He came quite willingly.” Mycroft returned.

            Holland waited a few moments before sensing that Mycroft wasn’t going to elaborate any further and turned his attention to the folder. Mycroft watched him carefully as he scanned the pictures of his fallen comrades. Except for a slight clenching of the jaw he showed no emotion to the file.

            “These two look familiar but I can’t place their names.” He said after a while.

            “John identified them as Captain Cameron Austin and Private Kyle Kirkhart. They worked at the base he was stationed at in Kandahar.” Greg supplied helpfully. At the mention of their names Holland nodded slightly.

            “I think I recall seeing them around yes. I didn’t really know them however.” Holland looked up toward them. “I really don’t know how I can be of any help to be honest. I hadn’t talked with Adam in quite some time. I had a drink with Dan about a year ago when I was first discharged. I haven’t talked to John since we were both in physical therapy I’m afraid.”

            “This meeting was primarily to inform you of potential threats but if you recall anything that might be helpful, anything that is suspicious or questionable please inform us straight away.” Greg urged.

            “Of course. And no, before you ask I will not go into protective custody.” Holland handed the file back.

            “We would like you to consider it. Whoever is committing these acts has quite a grudge.” Greg pleaded.

            “No I will be quite fine. I’m rarely in London anyway. I work private security for a wealthy businessman and frequently am required to follow him in his travels. I’m actually due to leave on another trip in two days.” Holland smiled. “I am quite sure I’ll be fine.”

            “If your sure.” Greg sighed in defeat.

            “Is there any way I can see John? He must be taking this really hard.” Holland looked toward Mycroft.

            “I’m sure he would appreciate that. Anthea will give you his contact information when you leave.” Mycroft allowed.

            “Thank you.” Holland nodded to Mycroft then turned to Gregory. “If anything comes up I’ll be sure to get in touch. I really hope you find the bastard.”

            With that Holland rose and left the office. Mycroft sighed and turned his chair to face Gregory.

            “I really hope I don’t end up seeing his body in the morgue. I hate when they refuse protective custody. It never ends well.” Gregory sighed as he stood up and collected his things.

            “You’ve done all you can do for now. At least he is aware of what is going on. He seems like a capable man and now he will be on his guard.” Mycroft assured him.

            “I suppose. I wonder if John can talk him over to the idea. Are they coming to dinner tonight?” Greg looked to him in question.

            “Unless the driver I sent them has miraculously forgotten where we live they should arrive promptly in a few hours.”

            “Good. Well then I suppose I should get going.” Gregory smiled before swooping down and planting a kiss on his cheek. “See you in a few hours.”

 

 

 

            Holland walked briskly from the building tucking the sheet of paper with John’s contact information into his pocket. He waited till he was several block away before pulling out his mobile hitting his most recent call.

            What the bloody hell was going on??? He wondered as he listened to the ringing, waiting for someone to pick up.

            “Hello?” A rough voice finally answered.

            “Does the boss know what’s going on?” he paused before continuing. “Why am I being called into meetings with Mycroft bloody Holmes? What am I supposed to say if he asks to meet again?”

 

 

 

 

            “So dinner?” John asked as they shuffled into the waiting black car.

            “Yes. I know a great fish and chips place. The owner always gives me extra portions.” Sherlock smirked climbing into the car after him.

            “Did you get him off a murder charge too?” John looked at him amused.

            “No.” Sherlock replied. “I simply revealed a disloyal employee.”

            John chuckled as he buckled Hamish into the seat in between them. Hamish was happily clutching a stuffed penguin that they had gotten him on their way through the gift shop.

            “You didn’t have to buy him anything you know.” John said patting Hamish’s head affectionately.

            “Now he will remember his visit.” Sherlock shrugged. “Although why his favorite animal from all the exhibits was a penguin I don’t really understand. There were far more interesting creatures, the jellyfish for one.”

            “That may be but jellyfish aren’t really conducive to cuddling.” John chuckled. “So where is this restaurant with the great fish and chips anyway?”

            “Just a short walk from Baker St.” Sherlock replied before turning to look out of the window.

            John likewise turned to gaze out of the window for a while before noticing that they were actually headed in the opposite direction of Baker Street. Confused John turned to ask Sherlock and found the detective scowling at his mobile.

            “Sherlock why aren’t we headed to Baker Street?”

            “Mycroft!” Sherlock scowled.

            “What does your brother have to do with it?” John questioned.

            “He requested that we join him and Lestrade for dinner earlier. I declined but it seems he has instructed his driver to take us to their house anyway.” Sherlock sulked angrily in his seat. “As soon as we get there we can call a cab and head to Baker Street.”

            “Sherlock! If your brother wants us for dinner we should go.” John looked at him in exasperation. “He did provide a car today and no doubt tons of security.”

            “We just had dinner with them! Why must I bet forced to endure his company again so soon?” Sherlock grumbled.

            “Because it’s what people do, they have dinner with their families.” John suppressed a chuckle as Sherlock continued to pout. Sherlock could certainly give Hamish a run for his money on sulking.

 

 

 

            “Ah you made it!” Lestrade greeted them when he opened the door. John held Hamish’s hand and was looking up rather shell-shocked at the building before him. Sherlock predictably was glaring him down.

            “Hardly surprising when your driver is ordered to bring us here.” Sherlock remarked with a scowl.

            “He means good to see you. This place is impressive.” John smiled looking up at the posh townhouse.

            “Thanks can’t take the credit, it was Mycroft’s place before we got together. I just moved in.” Greg replied stepping aside to let them in. “And how are you today Hamish?”

            “Good! We went to the Aquarium and saw sharks and pengwings!” Hamish babbled excitedly.

            “Well that is exciting! Is that where you got your friend there?” Greg smiled at the boy and pointed to his stuffed toy.

            “Uh-huh! Sirlock got it for me!!” Hamish explained holding up for Greg to see.

            Greg smirked and looked at Sherlock who brushed past him without a word. Greg chuckled before gesturing John to follow.

            “Hope you’re hungry! The food should be just about done.” Greg commented as they came into the kitchen.

            “Smells great! What is it?” John asked moving to sit at the table.

            “Well Mycroft mentioned hearing that you had planned on fish and chips for dinner so I pulled out all the stops. The batter is a family recipe.” Greg finished proudly ignoring Sherlock’s snort of derision.

            “Well I can’t wait.” John smiled.

            “Let me go get Myc and we’ll dig in.” Greg replied before walking briskly to his husband’s study.

            Knocking gently he poked his head in to find Mycroft deeply absorbed one of the many files stacked on his desk.

            “Hey Myc, Your brother and John are here. Time for dinner.” Greg announced.

            Mycroft blinked up at him before looking over at the clock.

            “Oh.” He said in slight surprise. “I seem to have let the time slip away from me. I am sorry Gregory.”

            “Eh no harm done. I know how you get.” Greg smiled watching as Mycroft stood and slowly made his way over. “Besides it was my turn to make dinner anyway.”

            “Right what are we having?” Mycroft kissed his cheek before following him down the hall to the kitchen.

            “Fish and chips.” Greg replied smirking at the horror-stricken expression Mycroft gave him. “Come on you’ll like it.”

            Sighing, Mycroft acquiesced and followed him in without protest. Hamish had climbed in a seat next to John and was looking around in curiosity. Sherlock had taken it upon himself to pour drinks for them all.

            “I’m surprised you were able to extricate him from his work Lestrade. What no wars to carefully plan brother mine? No lives to upend and ruin?” Sherlock remarked handing John a glass of water before placing juice in front of Hamish.

            “Sherlock.” John warned with a scowl. Greg suppressed a chuckle at the way Sherlock sighed like an exasperated teenager before sitting on the other side of John.

            “Alright let’s dig in!” Greg announced bringing the platters of food to the table.

            Once the food was distributed they all ate for a few moments in silence. Mycroft delicately cutting each bite to perfection before eating it while Sherlock haphazardly stuffed bits into his mouth, John somewhere in between the two. Hamish munched and happily explained to Mycroft everything he had learned about Sharks that day. Greg watched fondly as his husband listened attentively to the little boy asking questions at the appropriate times.

            “An they have no bones at all!” Hamish exclaimed looking up at Mycroft.

            “Really? I didn’t know that!” Mycroft replied with enthusiasm.

            “Yea! An Sirlock said that square jellyfish are scarier than sharks cause they can kill you with just a touch!”

            “Box jellyfish Hamish.” Sherlock chimed in smiling at the little boy’s reiteration of facts.

            “Don’t forget to eat Hamish, I’m sure Mycroft would love to hear more after dinner but we don’t want your food to get cold do we?” John tapped by Hamish’s plate as a gentle reminder.

            “It is quite good food Hamish, wouldn’t want it to go to waste.” Mycroft encouraged him before looking up at Greg with a look that said _I would also prefer not to have any leftovers of this pedestrian meal._

“We met with Major Holland today.” Greg announced after a few moments of silence.

            “ _Major_ Holland huh? Good on him.” John said looking up. “How did he take it?”

            “Stoically.” Mycroft replied. “He asked after you. I had my assistant give him your contact details, I do hope that is alright.”

            “No, that’s great actually. I’d love to see him.” John answered. “I take it he refused whatever protection you offered?”

            “Yes he did. Said he works private security now and can handle it on his own.” Greg bitterly replied.

            “Not surprising that he refused. I would have if I didn’t have Hamish to think about.” John asserted. “Did he have any insight to all this?”

            “No. He seemed as confused as you were about it all.” Greg divulged. “Said he hadn’t even had contact with any of you in a while.”

            “No he hasn’t. Not like I kept up with him either though.” John commented wryly. “Still it would be nice to catch up. I was never as close with him as I was with Dan and Adam but he was a nice sort of bloke. Had some good moments while we were out there.”

            “Have there been any new developments? Was there anything recovered from the camera’s you set up at John’s flat?” Sherlock inquired.

            “Actually the technicians were able to isolate a few images from the small bit of undamaged footage. They were able to focus in on a tattoo that was on the arm of the intruder. There is a file on the hall table with a copy. I had hoped you would pass it around to some of your contacts to see if they recognized the work.” Mycroft revealed.

            “And you’re just mentioning it now?” Sherlock glared.

            “I only received the report this afternoon. That is part of the reason I required your attendance at dinner.” Mycroft returned with a pointed look.

            “The other half of that reason was purely to irritate me I’m sure.” Sherlock retorted.

            “Now boys, be civil.” John chided them before looking to Greg silently saying _I don’t know how you’ve put up with them this long mate._

            Greg chuckled looking between the two Holmes brothers. The consulting four-year-old and the all-powerful British government who is secretly afraid of spiders but doesn’t bat an eye at the mafia. How _has_ he managed it all these years.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 500 kudos. 5-0-0 kudos?!?!?! Really? Oh wow. You guys are just so incredibly awesome. I really hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> So there is going to eventually be more from other points of view besides John/sherlock/greg/mycroft. There is a little hint to that here with Major Holland. I hope that doesn't bother anyone overly much. 
> 
> If anyone is interested in beta-ing let me know! My grammar could definitely use some help I'm sure. I am also extremely American so while I do my best to accurately represent British culture (information I absorbed entirely from the internet) please, if there is something I can improve on let me know!  
> Also one of the projects my work is doing comes to a close at the end of this month. When that happens I will have have a plethora of extra time on my hands so these updates should become faster.  
> Love you all!! 
> 
> -Ren


	19. In which John meets an old army friend and no questions are answered at all.

         

           "Well that was a nice evening. " John said smiling fondly at Sherlock. The detective currently had a sleeping Hamish cuddled up against him as he moodily stared out of the window.

            “I’m not sure nice is the word I would use. “Sherlock frowned.

           “Why do you quarrel so much with your brother? “John asked curiously.

           “Because he is a controlling, self-important, know-it-all who constantly feels the need to interfere in my life.” Sherlock explained turning to face John. “You should know, you have a sibling.”

           “Yeah I do but I don’t harbor all that much resentment towards Harry.” John shrugged. “You know, I think it’s because he acts more like a parent than a brother.”

           Sherlock considered him for a moment before nodding.

           “There could be something in that.” Sherlock allowed. “Does it bother you?”

           “No, argue all you want. If you could avoid doing so in front of Hamish I’d appreciate it, however. No need to teach him bad manners. Besides he seems to quite like both of you and seeing you at war with one another constantly will probably just confuse him.”

           The car finally pulled up to 221B and John carefully picked Hamish up from where he was slumped over onto Sherlock. Once upstairs John changed Hamish into his pajamas and then put him to bed. When he made it back downstairs he found Sherlock lounging in his chair idly plucking his violin.

           “Tea?” He asked walking to the kitchen.

           “Yes, thank you.” He heard Sherlock say.

           After a short while John handed a mug of tea to Sherlock before sitting across from him.

           “Hamish sure tired himself out recounting the entire aquarium visit to Greg and Mycroft. It’s not even 8 o’clock.” John commented.

           “Hmm yes he did. I’m surprised at how many facts he retained.” Sherlock sipped his tea before continuing, “I was given to understand children of his age wouldn’t pay attention that well.”

           “He is slightly above average for his age, but I’ve noticed he pays attention more if you don’t treat him like a child. He won’t remember everything but he does pay attention better if you don’t baby him. And that is something you definitely don’t do. Harry’s still rubbish at it.” John chuckled. He felt his mobile buzz and pulled it out to see a message from an unknown number.

 

**John, would you care to meet tomorrow? Would be nice to catch up. –Holland**

 

           Who’s that?” Sherlock asked.

           “Holland. He wants to catch up tomorrow.” John answered

           “Good, invite him over. I’d quite like the chance to ask some questions of my own.” Sherlock nodded.

           “Well I would actually like to talk privately for a bit with him.” John explained. “How about I invite him to lunch in the café below and after we’ve talked for a while you can join us?”

           “I suppose that’s allowable.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

           John shook his head at the petulant detective before typing out the response.

 

            _Would you like to have lunch? There is a café on Baker Street called Speedy’s. Could meet there around noon?_

 

Almost immediately John’s mobile buzzed once more.

 

**Sounds perfect. See you then.**

           “Well that sorted.” John side sipping more of his tea.

            They drank the rest of the tea in silence, Sherlock still absentmindedly plucking his violin. John sat down his empty mug and reached for a book before remembering a question he had for Sherlock.

            “I meant to ask,” John looked over at Sherlock “what was that woman at the aquarium on about?”

            Sherlock froze pointedly staring at the ground.

           “Oh you know just commenting on how adorable Hamish is.” Sherlock stammered out.

           “But she said something about us being together?” John probed.

           “You and Hamish of course.” Sherlock said quickly.

           “But she mentioned a surrogate?”

           “Fine John. Fine. While you were in the loo she saw Hamish and I together. She asked if he was my son and I said yes because it was a simple explanation and I was sure she would be gone by the time you returned.” Sherlock paused looking up at him. “She, however, insisted on sticking around so when you returned she assumed …”

           “She assumed we were a couple.” John finished. “Oh that explains it.”

           “You aren’t upset?” Sherlock questioned his eyebrows scrunching in confusion.

           “Why would I be? It’s actually all rather funny.” John chuckled.

           “I just assumed you would be. I mean why would you be OK with an attractive woman thinking you were with another man?” Sherlock puzzled.

           “Well if I was upset, it would be highly hypocritical considering the last two serious relationships I had before Mary were with men.” John smiled.

           “What?” Sherlock explained. “But you married a woman!”

           “You do know that you can like both sexes?” John quirked an eyebrow at him.

           John waited for Sherlock to stop staring in astonishment. He could understand Sherlock’s confusion at the news. John knew he seemed fairly heterosexual; he _had_ married a woman and did have a son with her.

           “You know I think I ought to take a photo.” John said feigning concern. “I don’t think Greg will believe me when I tell him I stunned you into silence.”

           At the mention of a photograph Sherlock seem to snap back to himself.

           “So,” Sherlock paused hesitantly, “you are in fact, not upset?”

           “No.” John chuckled before opening the book he had picked up.

 

 

 

            Holland tapped his fingers and impatiently as he stared at the door. John was late, which was very unlike the John he remembered.

           The first five minutes in Holland had thought that maybe he had the wrong café. After a quick glance at the text he found he was indeed in the correct spot. Now 10 minutes in and he was beginning to wonder if John had forgotten. Just as he was about to call John walked in the door.

           Holland studied John as he walked to the table. John's hair was still as blonde as ever but as he came closer Holland could see a slight bit of gray starting to pop up. The doctor was in good shape, which was actually rather surprising considering he had been out of the service for a while now. He was also sporting a cast on his left wrist.

           “Sorry I’m late,” John smiled pulling out chair. “The time got away from me a bit. It’s good to see you mate.”

           “Oh that’s quite all right. You’re looking well.” Holland clapped him on his back.

           “As are you. I hear you are a major now.” John grinned him.

           “Yes I was promoted about eight months before I was discharged.” Holland confirmed. “I hear you’re in protective custody.”

           “Yeah something like that.” John chuckled.

           “I’m surprised you don’t have any suits with you.” Holland teased.

           “Mycroft’s men are a bit more subtle.” John nodded over to a man reading a newspaper.

            “Yes I suppose his would-be. He seemed the posh sort that would require secret agents for a simple security detail.”

            “Yeah he does.” John laughed.

            “Can I help you sir’s?” A waitress asked.

            They both quickly ordered and waited for the waitress to retreat before continuing the conversation.

            “So how are you doing with this?” Holland asked carefully.

            “I am,” John started looking dejectedly at the table. “Not sure. I think I’m still processing it to be honest.”

            “Sure. I am as well, I mean it’s a rather large shock.” Holland sighed.

            “Yeah it is. Christ, I never thought Adam would be taken out like this. After that last mission I thought he would outlast us all, even as broken as he was.” John lamented. “I don’t understand who would want to kill him, or Dan for that matter.”

            The waitress shuffled over bringing their order. After she was assured they had everything they needed she disappeared again leaving John and him to eat their meals.

            “ You don’t suppose that someone high up is in on this? Trying to cover something up?” Holland queried taking a bite of his sandwich.

            “No can’t be.” John replied with a shake of his head. “The other two victims don’t make sense in that scenario. Besides why kill them like that? Torture and then shoot them? Why not just take them out with one clean shot or better yet make it look like a natural death.”

            “That is true I suppose.” Holland agreed.

            “If this was a cover up they would be a lot less conspicuous about it I would think.” John continued.

            “Well if not that than why?” Holland prodded trying to get a feel for what John knew. “Has the police revealed to you anything else they know or suspect?”

            “Not sure why. I’ve been trying to think of anything that links them all and I keep coming up with nothing.” John shrugged. “I don’t know of any theories yet no. I know they have a small lead but it all depends on a tattoo.”

            “A tattoo?” Holland asked incredulous.

            “Yes, they were able to isolate a small bit of footage and obtained a snapshot of a man’s tattoo. I haven’t seen it but I know they are trying to find the artist in hopes of tracking the man down.” John explained.

            “What footage?” Holland asked confused.

            “Oh right you don’t know about that.” John paused looking up. “My flat was broken into a few days ago.”

            “What? Is that how you broke your arm?” Holland glanced down at the arm in question.

            “No, that was another matter entirely. I wasn’t at home when it happened.” John reassured him.

            “How did they get footage? Did you put security cameras up in your own home?” Holland questioned slightly bemused.

            “No my flat was already under surveillance due to an incident with my wife.” John revealed casually.

            Holland looked down at the broken arm again and noted an absence of a ring. He looked up at John quizzically.

            “Right well before all this started I was placed under protective custody because I unknowingly married the worst sort of woman.”

            “You’re being awfully vague John.” Holland frowned.

            “Sorry, I’m just not sure how much I’m allowed to say really.” John chuckled. “Lets just say she lied about who she was and I was detained against my will in order to get her to cooperate. A week ago she was found dead and I was able to escape. They put me in protective custody because of her old employers.”

            “Christ John, Mycroft wasn’t exaggerating when he said you had been in a bit of trouble of late.” Holland wryly commented. “You always did pick the dangerous ones to fall in love with huh?”

            “Yea, I suppose I did.” John smiled slightly.

            “Daddy!!!!” a small voice called.

            Holland turned to find a small child, looking exceptionally like John, barreling towards them. Behind him sauntered a tall man with a rakish air about him sporting dark curly hair and a long posh looking coat. The little boy stopped at their table and climbed immediately into John’s lap.

            “Daddy?’ Holland questioned raising his eyebrows.

            “Yea, this is Hamish.” John smiled. “Hamish this is my old army friend Major Holland.”

            Right this made more sense. The John he knew would have preferred sleeping on nails rather than accept any sort of protective custody. A child however explained it perfectly. John would accept to protect his son.

            “I thought you were going to ask Mrs. Hudson to watch him?” John asked the posh man who had taken the vacant seat next to John.

            “She popped out to the shops before I could ask her.” The man replied before turning to face him and offering a hand. “Sherlock Holmes.”

            “Holmes?” Holland repeated.

            “Yes yes, Mycroft is my older brother.” Sherlock said impatiently before continuing. “You are Major Holland.”

            “Yes, Just Holland now though.” He corrected.

            “No first name?” Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

            “Holland here hates his first name. Everyone used to take the mickey out of him for it.” John chuckled.

            “You would hate it too if your mother was stupid enough to name you Eugene.” Holland groaned. “I’ll stick with Holland thanks.”

            Sherlock’s mouth twitched in what Holland guessed was amusement. Then again it could be in sympathy, the poor bastard was stuck with a name like Sherlock after all. His brother had a funny name as well.

            “So how did you get stuck with each other? Do you work for your brother Sherlock?” Holland inquired noting the look of prompt disgust that appeared on Sherlock’s face after he asked the question.

            “Of course not.” Sherlock scoffed. “I was simply the one taking care of Hamish here when John was found.”

            Holland looked over to John in confusion.

            “Hamish was also kept as incentive for my wife, although in a separate place. Someone dropped him off at a police station a few days before I made my escape and Sherlock was the one designated to care for him.” John explained smiling down at his son who was still staring at Holland in curiosity.

            “Oh so you do social work?” Holland looked over at Sherlock.

            “No I’m a consulting detective. I was simply there when he came into the Met. Hamish took a liking to me and refused to go off with the social worker that was sent. My brother interfered.” Sherlock explained.

            “Oh.” Holland nodded unsure of what to say to that. He was getting increasingly unsure of the elder Holmes. He really was going to have to demand more information on the man.

            “Have you noticed any peculiar men following you the past few days? Anything out of the ordinary?” Sherlock asked.

            “As I told your brother and that detective I honestly can’t think of anything. I wasn’t even in the country until the day before yesterday, I was in Hong Kong. I take a lot of trips for work you see.”

            “Right security work.” Sherlock nodded. “Did either Kirkhart or Austin cross your path? Did you ever see them interacting with Adam or Dan?”

            “I saw them around the base a several times I think but I didn’t interact with them personally any. I don’t think Adam or Dan even knew them to be honest. When we were at the base they mainly focused on relaxing and catching up with John, and then John joined our team and we got assigned another base to return to between missions.”

            “There has to be something.” Sherlock insisted clenching his fist on the table. “It doesn’t make sense.”

            “I’m sorry I’m not more help. I really am.” Holland looked at the man apologetically. “I am glad to see that you are in safe hands though John.”

            “Thanks. Are you sure you’ll be alright?” John asked shifting the boy in his lap slightly. Hamish was still staring at him, which admittedly was a bit unnerving.

            “No I’ll be fine. I’m actually leaving on another trip in a couple of hours so I think I should be well enough away.” Holland looked at his watch. “Speaking of which I should be off, I haven’t even packed properly.”

            “Typical. You always did wait till the last minute to pack for missions.” John chuckled.

            “Hey now, I always remembered to get everything in the end.” Holland shot back with a smirk. “Let me know if something else happens alright?”

            “Of course.” John nodded.

            After a few more pleasantries Holland made his way from the café. He waited until he was back in his apartment before calling this time.

            “What now?” the voice on the other end demanded.

            “You really have to fill me in on what’s going on. I just met with John. Did you know he was kidnapped? Did you know he was married and has a son??” Holland practically yelled into the phone.

            “Who do you think killed her?” the voice questioned back.

  

 

 

            “He was extremely unhelpful.” Sherlock grumbled as they made their way out of the shop.

            “Well I’m sure he isn’t doing it on purpose.” John tried to placate him tucking Hamish’s coat further around the boy.

            Sherlock grunted and held the door open for John. John exited quickly making his way over to the door for 221B stopping short when he noticed an envelope tapped to the door.

            “John why have you stopped? You do realize we live upstairs not here on the pavement?” Sherlock inquired impatiently from behind him.

            “This.” John said simply plucking the envelope from the door and noting it had his name on it before showing it to Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we go!!! How did you like it??? 
> 
> In other news: I'm planning my next fic to write after this one is finished up (just planning no writing yet) and I have two distinct ideas and Im curious what would interest people more cause honestly I'm rather excited about both.  
> So both involve kid John and kid sherlock.  
> option #1. John is Sebastian's son and Sherlock is moriarty's son. John and sherlock meet at school and become friends bringing their parents in contact with each other. of course hilarity ensues. definitely a more fluffy less plot sort of fic.  
> #2. John is found at a crime scene by a newly made DI Lestrade. Lestrade knew John's dad who passed away a few years ago and who was his mentor on the force. John's sister was murdered at the crime scene. John has an older brother, Sebastian, who has been back to london for a short time in search of his siblings. Sebastian had already taken a job with moriarty, mainly so he could utilize resources to find them. Sherlock, and mycroft are apart of the story too I just haven't fleshed out their background quite yet other than Mycroft is dating lestrade. this one has a little more plot.
> 
> I'd love to hear anyone's opinions on either of these. I'm going to write them anyway but like I said before i'm curious if anyone else thinks they would be interesting. 
> 
> Also any opinions, negative/positive on how this is story is going. keep it polite dears. :)  
> Looking for a beta still, you can find me on tumblr. http://faroreaswind.tumblr.com
> 
> I love you all so much and thank you honestly for the interest and support for this story!


	20. The Dangers of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we find out who's behind the note!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize profusely for this being so late!!!!!!!

           

 

            Sherlock looked at the envelope in John's hand. It was small, about 20 cm long and had John's name written in block letters across the front. He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and with a quick glance saw it was Billy, one of his contacts. Sherlock glanced up at John and found his face full of worry.

            “Take it upstairs, I’ll be just a moment.” Sherlock instructed.

            Sherlock watches John slowly made his way upstairs before turning his attention to Billy.

            “What do you have for me?” Sherlock asked.

            “Doc’s tattoo shop, Barnsbury Road. Ask for Mic.” Billy handed him the photo of the tattoo Sherlock had given him earlier along with the piece of paper with the address of the shop scrawled on it.

            “Good work.” Sherlock nodded passing back a few banknotes before turning and rushing up to the flat.

            Sherlock entered loudly startling Hamish, who jumped and looked up at him from his spot on the floor. Hamish beamed and then returned to his fish puzzle that had mysteriously arrived at the flat that morning. Sherlock smiled back as he tossed the photo and the note on the coffee table before moving to the kitchen where he heard John moving about.

            John had just finished pouring tea into two mugs and was adding a bit of milk to each. The envelope was on the table still unopened.

            “Here.” John turned and handed one of the cups to him.

            They both stood in silence staring at the envelope quietly drinking their tea, each waiting for the other to say something. Finally John set his cup down with a sigh.

            “Well mine as well I suppose.” John lamented.

            He carefully tore the seal and pulled out a plain piece of paper that had two small words printed in block letters.

           

 

            FOR YOU

 

           John looked at him and confusion before staring into the envelope again. Sherlock watched as John’s eyes widened and his breath caught. Wordlessly John tipped the envelope upside down and Sherlock watched as pieces of something scattered onto the table. He leaned forward and recognized a few of the fragments. Pictures. Slowly he sorted through all of the pieces bringing the torn edges together to create three photographs. He looked up at John, who had frozen, his eyes staring at the pictures in shock.

            Two were smaller and had only one person in them each, Kirkhart in one and Austin in the other. Both had had their faces burned out before being ripped to shreds. The third photograph was the one taken from John’s flat, the photo of Dan, Billy and Adam, John had been cut out of the picture. The faces had likewise been burned out before also being ripped pieces.

            “Sherlock,” John breathed out warily “what does this mean?”

            “Well, the ‘for you’ could indicate he’s coming for you next but,” he paused “it’s far more likely that when it says ‘for you’ they mean this was all done for you as in some sort of gift.”

            “What!? That’s mental!” John exclaimed.

            “Yes but it makes the situation less troublesome.” Sherlock replied.

            “Less troublesome?” John looked at him astounded. “Sherlock this doesn’t help things! This is worse! How is killing people, torturing them, all for me, less troublesome?”

            “Because it means he’s less likely to do anything to cause you direct harm!” Sherlock replied loudly before adding “Hamish is also safer this way.”

            John’s eyes softened at this.

            “I’m going to get ahold of Mycroft. There are no less than six surveillance cameras trained on the front of our flat. One of them is bound to have something.”

 

 

            John watched as Sherlock hurriedly dialed a number on his mobile while pacing furiously. He stared down at the ruined pictures and began to worry. Who else was going to suffer in this? Why would anyone think this an appropriate action? Did he know this person? John rested his head in his hands rubbing at his eyes in frustration. Why would killing his friends be for him? Kirkhart and Austin weren’t really his friends. He actually never got on with either of them but they didn’t deserve this. No one did. Why was Billy included in this? He was killed in Afghanistan, not murdered by some psychopath. This whole thing was just too much.

            He jumped slightly when his mobile began to buzz in his pocket. He pulled out the device and saw an unfamiliar number on the screen. John hesitated, his finger hovering over the answer button. His eyes flicked towards the shredded photographs. Whoever this was….they wouldn’t call him would they?

            John took a deep breath before hitting answer.

            “Hello?” he asked hesitantly.

            _“John!!”_ Harry exclaimed on the other end happily. _“I thought for a moment there you weren’t going to pick up!”_

            “Harry!” John sighed in relief walking into the other room to give Sherlock some space. “Is everything alright?”

            _“Everything is fine! Stop worrying!”_ Harry reassured him. _“They are actually thinking about allowing me to switch to an outpatient in a week or two.”_

            “That’s great Harry!” John said proudly settling down onto the sofa.

            _“Thank you!”_ Harry replied. _“So what I wanted to know was what is the plan for Hamish’s birthday?”_

            Right Hamish’s birthday was in two days. John looked over at his son who was quietly assembling his new puzzle. The fish themed puzzle had simply appeared at the flat that morning. Sherlock had taken one look at it and grumbled a quiet ‘Mycroft’ before handing it to an eager Hamish.

            _“John?’_ Harry prompted him sounding slightly concerned.

            “Right sorry, got distracted. Um well so far all that is planned is presents and cake.” John coughed. Surely Mrs. Hudson would be willing to make a cake, she already seemed to think of Hamish as her grandson.

            _“Why not take him somewhere? I bet he’s been cooped up in that flat all this time. ”_ Harry encouraged.

            “Hey, we took him to the aquarium just yesterday!” John defended.

            _“Aww did he like it?”_ Harry quizzed.

            “He loved it.” John replied smiling at his son who had looked over at him.

            _“Well why not take him to the zoo for his birthday then? If he loved the aquarium then the zoo should be a big hit!”_ Harry eagerly promoted.

            “I don’t know Harry. Things are a bit serious around here. A quiet birthday in might be best.” John hesitated thinking of the shredded pictures and the note.

            _“John! It’s his birthday!!!”_ Harry scolded.

            “I know that Harry its just I mean it when I say things have gotten serious.”

            _“What else has happened?”_ Harry sounded worried.

            “I really don’t want to talk about it Harry.” John sighed. “Just plan on presents and cake at Sherlock’s flat for now. I’ll think it over and get back to you if that changes.”

            _“Fine.”_ She huffed. _“Now tell me more about the aquarium visit.”_

            “Well he loved the penguins,” John started shifting forward on the sofa staring at the coffee table. “He was a little frightened of the sharks until-”

            He stopped talking as his brain began to register the photo thrown haphazardly onto the table in front of him. The photo showed a grainy image of a man’s arm with a distinctive tattoo, a tattoo that John recognized.

 

 

 

            “Can’t you go any faster?” Sherlock sneered into the mobile.

            _“The computer can only go so fast brother dear.”_ Mycroft admonished. 

            The cameras had caught a tall man wearing a hooded sweatshirt sticking the envelope to the door before hastily walking away. Mycroft said the man looked into several of the cameras deliberately before disappearing entirely two blocks away. The man was overconfident now, and clearly ready to show himself. Sherlock stopped his pacing and looked into the sitting room to see Hamish still working at his puzzle and John sitting on the sofa talking quietly into his phone. Harry was on the other end by the sound of the conversation.

            _“Ah.”_ Mycroft commented drawing him out of his thoughts.

            “And?” He demanded resuming his pacing.

            _“Colonel Moran. Dishonorably discharged four months ago. Stationed at the same base in Kandahar as John.”_

            “John probably knows him then.” Sherlock walked back to the sitting room to get John’s take on it.

            _“There is more_ _Sherlock,”_ Mycroft began.

            Sherlock found John still on the sofa talking with his sister, except John wasn’t talking. John was staring at the coffee table with a look of recognition and horror.

            “Later Mycroft. Something’s wrong with John.” Sherlock clipped into his mobile before ending the call.

            Sherlock walked over to the stunned doctor and found John staring at the image of the tattoo Mycroft had given him.

            _“John? John, are you there? HELLO? John what happened?”_ Sherlock heard a faint voice _._

He carefully took the mobile from John’s hand trying his best not to startle him.

            “Harry, John will have to call you back, something’s come up.” Sherlock explained.

            _“Is he alright?”_ Harry questioned.

            “Not sure.” Sherlock answered honestly before cutting the call off. He placed the mobile on the table and took a seat next to John.

            “I know that tattoo Sherlock.” John whispered.

            “Colonel Moran.” Sherlock said simply piecing things together.

            “How did you?” John looked at him still wide-eyed.

            “He was the one to leave the note on the door. Didn’t even try to hide from the cameras.” Sherlock explained.

            “Jesus Christ.” John groaned leaning back into the sofa letting his head drift back to stare at the ceiling.

            “John, is there some history between you?” Sherlock asked carefully.

            “I thought it was behind me. I thought he would have given up by now.” John said quietly breathing deeply.

            Sherlock prepared to ask another question but stopped as Hamish walked towards them. Hamish was clutching his stuffed elephant that seemed to have a permanent indent around it’s middle now.

            “Hamish what do you need?” Sherlock ask calmly. John looked up at this trying to clear his panicked expression.

            “Here Daddy.” Hamish offered his toy before explaining. “Hugging make you feel better.”

            “Thanks bud.” John smiled tugging his son forward. “But I’d rather hug you.”

            Hamish giggled as John pulled him into his lap and gave him a giant bear hug. Sherlock watched as John just held his son breathing him in for a few moments. It wasn’t long before the little boy began squirming to get away.

            “Dadd-y!” Hamish whined wiggling in John’s arms.

            “Alright alright.” John chuckled pressing a kiss to Hamish’s head before releasing him.

            “Can I watch cartoons??” Hamish asked sweetly looking back and forth from John to him.

            “Yes just don’t turn it up too loud ok.” John replied smoothing the child’s hair down.

            Hamish smiled back and placed the stuffed toy in John’s hands before turning to Sherlock. The little boy gave him a long look that Sherlock took to mean ‘ _I don’t understand what’s going on but I know he’s upset. Make it better_.’ Sherlock smiled at the boy nodding his head slightly for reassurance. Hamish’s smile grew bigger and with one final look at John he scampered away to turn the telly on.

            Sherlock looked at John once more who certainly seemed calmer. John was gripping the elephant toy and absentmindedly rubbing his fingers over it

            “Would you care to start at the beginning?” Sherlock started. John nodded in agreement before taking a deep breath.

            “Moran was stationed at the same base in Afghanistan.” John began. “He had a reputation for being tough and rather dangerous.”

            “What was his job?” Sherlock asked curiously, he’d cut Mycroft off before he had gotten any details.

            “Sniper. He was the best on the base and made sure everyone knew it. He was assigned special missions and usually only went out with two person teams.” John explained. “One of his missions got him injured enough to get him in the infirmary.”

            “You were the one who treated him.” Sherlock concluded.

            “Hm yes. It wasn’t a serious injury, a bullet graze on his shoulder. He scared away two doctors before me and none of the nurses wanted to go near him. I went in and stood my ground forcing him to take the necessary medicine to prevent infection and sit back while I stitched up his arm. He grouched the whole time, verbally abusing anything and everyone. I told him quite simply to quit throwing a tantrum and act like a grown man which stunned him into silence long enough for me to stitch him up. When he was all patched up I gave him more tablets to take and instructions on how to take care of the wound with a threat that if he didn’t do as I instructed I would flag his file for a routine checkup and make it as uncomfortable and drawn out as I possibly could.”

            “You bullied the bully.” Sherlock’s eyes rose in surprise.

            “Yeah. I had learned by then that the tough men, the ones with really high rank who thought they owned the place had to be dealt with that way. Most of the time they grudgingly began to respect you or just do as you say and ignore you after that. Moran followed a somewhat different route after that I’m afraid.”

            “What do you mean?” Sherlock puzzled.

            “It seemed at the time that my handling of him sparked his interest and apparently while in the ward he heard gossip that I dated men. He began to seek me out between his missions and flirted quite frequently I’m afraid. At first it was fairly innocent but turned into flat out propositioning later. I was not evenly remotely interested. I found him rude, cruel and dismissive of the feelings of others but rather than saying that I explained that while flattered I was in a committed relationship at the time and wasn’t interested.”

            “You were in a relationship while in Afghanistan?” Sherlock asked in surprise. “Someone back here?”

            “No, that would have been smarter.” John smiled sadly. “Me and another officer I’m afraid. Silly thing to fall in love with a solider while at war.”

            “John, what happened?” Sherlock questioned softly seeing the pain reflected in John’s eyes.

            “He got shot on a mission and died on his way back to the base.” John looked at him woefully before adding in a whisper, “Billy.”

            “Bill from the-” Sherlock flicked his eyes towards the kitchen where the shredded photograph lay.

            “The photograph yes.” John finished looking away.

            Well that certainly explained John’s reluctance to talk about his friend.

            “Anyway,” John coughed. “When that happened Moran’s pursuing became even more persistent, even a little scary to be truthful. I had never told him who I was with, Bill and I tried to keep it discrete really. Somehow he knew though. His advances were making me uncomfortable and after a long conversation with Dan and Adam they convinced me request a transfer to their team that way I would be away from him and also with my friends who I could lean on after Billy’s death.”

            “How did you accomplish that?” Sherlock asked.

            “Well there was a general that owed me a favor.” John smiled. “His son was shot and ended up in our care and after one of the more incompetent doctors almost unnecessarily amputated his leg I stepped in and operated. After I saw him back to good health and I learned who his father was. The general insisted that if I ever needed anything to contact him.”

            “Well aren’t we a pair.” Sherlock chuckled. “I acquire favors for getting people sent or not sent to prison and you acquire them by saving their life.”

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again sorry for being quite late on this. Work has been hectic and on top of that the transmission in my car failed. So between all that I've been running around the past couple of weeks like a chicken with their head cut off. I'm also pretty sure I gave myself a stomach ulcer....
> 
> Anyway. I hope you enjoyed this. I really tried to get reactions right and appropriate but I'm sure it could still be improved upon. I worried for a long time on it actually so please be honest, even if you think it's rubbish. This conversation is definitely not over, Sherlock still has lots more questions and Mycroft is sure butt in with his two cents. There is also going to be a chapter soon (sometime in the next 3 chapters) from Moran's point of view so stay tuned!
> 
> I had an idea planned originally which I can still go with but I'm kind of curious, what would you like to see for Hamish's birthday?
> 
> I apologize for any mistakes! I am trying to figure things out with a potential beta but I didn't want to make you guys wait for this any longer since I was already so late but work should be less stressful this coming week so hopefully I'll have it worked out soon!


	21. A little bit of hope can go a long way.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more conversation. Are you tired of it yet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big round of applause for my new beta [mafm](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mafm/pseuds/mafm)

 

 

            “So when you got transferred, what did he do?” Sherlock questioned.

            “I have no idea; he was out on a mission at the time. By the time he got back, our unit was out on a mission, and when it was over we were transferred to another base. I never saw him again.” John shrugged.

            “Describe one of your encounters with him.” Sherlock asked, after a pause.

            “Well-” John began before a loud stomping was heard on the stairs.

            “Sherlock! John?” Lestrade called up to them before appearing, slightly disheveled and out of breath, a moment later.

            “Has something else happened?” Sherlock asked the inspector, as he was racing into the flat.

            “You tell me?” Lestrade asked, as he looked about wildly. “Mycroft said you ended a call abruptly saying that something was wrong with John. He was concerned something had happened here.”

            “He always jumps to conclusions!” Sherlock chided looking over to Hamish. The startled boy had dropped the remote he was holding at the sudden noise. Sherlock watched as Hamish calmed at the sight of the inspector before returning his attention to the cartoons.

            “Well, considering everything that’s happened, it’s probably better to be overly cautious about such comments.” John reminded him. “I mean your phrasing didn’t really bode well.”

            “No, it didn’t.” Lestrade agreed, now calmer than before. “So what _is_ the problem?”

            “It seems during John’s time in Afghanistan, he managed to acquire a rather violent stalker.” Sherlock looked to John and gestured to the photograph on the table. “He recognized the tattoo and had a bit of a shock.”

            “Is that what this is all about, then?” Lestrade looked at John in concern.

            “It appears so. Might as well take a seat, Lestrade.” Sherlock said impatiently.

            “Right.” Lestrade nodded and pulled a chair closer to the sofa.

            Sherlock waited until Lestrade was settled before looking to John once more.

            “I was just asking John to describe some interactions with Moran.” He nodded for John to begin once more.  John took a steadying breath and began.

            “Well, as I said earlier, it was after our initial interaction when I stood my ground that he actually took notice of me. Before that encounter I had seen him around the base but I’m positive he hadn’t noticed me really. After that encounter, though, I started seeing him more often. I had made it a habit to run a couple of miles most mornings while I was there, lots of us did, and he began to come along. He also took to sitting at my table when we were both in the mess at the same time. I didn’t think too much of it to be honest, just that he had respected me for my refusal to be intimidated. He did begin to talk with me after a while, which I did find strange. He didn’t talk to most people, so it was quite out of the ordinary. The first time I actually felt uncomfortable was when he found me in the showers one day.”

            “What happened?” Lestrade questioned leaning forward.

            “Nothing at first. Just a lot of long lingering stares.” John shrugged.

            “He was waiting for you to let your guard down.” Sherlock surmised.  

            “Yea, I suppose so. It worked.” John grimaced. “I got so used to him just being there that when he first made a pass at me it was entirely unexpected.”

            “What did you do?” Lestrade pushed.

            “I politely told him I was flattered but in a quite serious relationship. I really wasn’t interested at all, he wasn’t my type, but he was known to have quite a temper so I thought letting him down easy was best. He tried a few more time to convince me but eventually let it drop. When Billy died, he started in again in full force.”

            “Why would Billy’s death cause him to start again?” Lestrade looked utterly confused.

            “John’s bisexual and was in a relationship with him. Do keep up Lestrade.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

            “Wait. Seriously??” Lestrade looked at John in shock. John just gave an amused smile and a nod in response. “I never would have guessed.”

            “Only because you don’t observe.” Sherlock ridiculed him.

            “You’re one to talk.” John quirked an eyebrow at him before looking at Lestrade. “Don’t let him fool you, he didn’t ‘observe’ it either.”

            “Oh really? The great Sherlock Holmes didn’t deduce it?” Lestrade smirked at him. Sherlock scowled at him before looking back to John.

            “So John, what did Moran do after Billy’s death?” Sherlock asked, trying to bring the conversation back on point.

            “Just got a bit more insistent.” John shrugged. “Stole a kiss once actually, which I was in no way prepared for.”

            “So, then you got transferred. Did he try to contact you again?” Sherlock prodded.

            “No, not at all. That’s why I assumed he’d just let it go. Out of sight out of mind and all that.” John looked sadly down at the tattoo photo.

            “Well I guess that is useless information now.” Lestrade gestured to the photo.

            “You would think that.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Think Lestrade, the artist who did his tattoo might have other relevant information.”

            “Like what?” Lestrade looked at him curiously.

            “Some studios require address, to send promotional things. They might have a phone number. It’s a long shot, but not to be ruled out yet. It would be helpful to know if he was the type to acquire lots of tattoos.” Sherlock mused.

            “Oh, he would. He had an unfinished back tattoo while we were in Afghanistan.” John piped up.

            “How do you know that?” Sherlock asked, as both he and Lestrade looked at John in bewilderment.

            “Oh come on, not how you’re thinking! Some of the men ran without shirts. It was the desert; it was hot!” John explained exasperatedly. Sherlock pushed the image of a shirtless John running out of his mind, now was not the time.

            “Well, that is potentially helpful. He would want to go to the same place to finish it, presumably. We can only hope that it was the same artist who did his arm tattoo.” Sherlock handed the address of the shop to Lestrade.

            “Right. Well I’ll get someone out there to ask questions.” Lestrade accepted the paper with a nod.

            “I don’t understand.” John shook his head, “Why now? It’s been five years since then. Why is he doing this?”

            “He took something from your interactions that you didn’t mean to give, or imply, something that gave him hope for a relationship. Rather than dying out over the years that hope seems to have caught ablaze and transformed from hope to obsession.” Sherlock commented.

            “Great.” John moaned.

            “I suspect you would have heard from him sooner had he left the army earlier.” Sherlock relayed.

            “Why was he discharged?” John questioned, looking at Lestrade.

            “Mycroft’s file said he was dismissed with disgrace for a long list of reasons, unwarranted brutality, disobeying direct orders, and purposely endangering the lives of other men were a few of them. Apparently there was also some accusations of treason but those were unable to be proven.” Lestrade explained grimly.

            “I can’t say it’s surprising, I suppose.” John sighed. “So, now that we know who it is, how do we catch him?”

            “Well Mycroft is trying to trace his whereabouts now and a general notice was sent out to every law enforcement division.” Lestrade said.

            “He’s too good for that.” Sherlock shook his head. “It won’t be the normal channels of communication that catch him. He won’t slip up like that. It will be the things where he forgets to cover his tracks. Like a tattoo shop.”

            “I already said I’d send someone around.” Lestrade snapped.

            “Well what do we do in the meantime?” John asked, leaning forward.

            “Carry on as is, I suppose.” Lestrade shrugged.

            “I’m just supposed to sit about and do nothing?” John looked at him incredulously. “I’ve got a son to think about! We have our own lives to get back to! He’s got a birthday in two bloody days! Not to mention I’m sure Sherlock would like his home back!”

            “We’ll get it sorted, John!” Lestrade tried to reassure him.

            “Why can’t I help? Why can’t we set a trap of some sort? I don’t want to just sit about doing nothing!” John huffed angrily.

            “John, no one is suggesting anything of the sort.” Sherlock glared at Lestrade. “Your assistance will be quite necessary in cornering him, I should think. As for Hamish’s birthday, I shouldn’t worry overly much, I’m sure we can make it a memorable experience. As for having my flat empty once again, please be assured you are no inconvenience. In fact you have provided perhaps one of the most interesting cases all year and I must insist you stay here until it is all sorted.”

            Sherlock left out how boring his life would become if John and Hamish left, case or not. He wasn’t the type to form attachments, and he most certainly didn’t have attachments to John or Hamish. Sherlock simply wanted to figure out why they were different from everyone else, why they didn’t seem to mind his abnormalities. After all, Sherlock was a man of knowledge; once he had it they could be on their way but certainly not before.

            “So Hamish’s birthday is soon.” Greg commented. “What’s the plan for that?”

            “Oh you know I was just thinking presents and cake here. Harry wants to take him to the zoo but I feel like that might be a nightmare and perhaps a bit dangerous given the circumstances.” John gazed fondly at his son who was blinking at the telly tiredly.

            “I think the zoo would be fine! If he’s not been before I bet he would love it!” Lestrade smiled. “I mean, the aquarium was a big hit.”

            “That’s true.” John nodded. “If you think it’s doable.”

            “Of course! Who all would come?” Lestrade grinned.

            “Well my sister, us,” John gestured to Sherlock. “You and Mycroft, if you think he’ll come.”

            “HA!” Sherlock burst out laughing. “My brother at the zoo! I think he’d sooner give up cake than voluntarily go to the zoo!”

            “Surely he might make an exception. I know Hamish would love for him to come. He seems to have gotten it into his head that Mycroft controls everything.” John shrugged sheepishly.

            “He’s not wrong.” Sherlock snorted.

            “Well if you can get him to come, you’ll be my hero.” Lestrade laughed.

            John’s mobile buzzed against the table briefly signaling a text. John picked it up and read the message before smirking at them.

            “I’m not sure how he knew what we were talking about but it seems as if I’m now officially a hero.” John laughed showing each of them the text in turn.

 

 

            **I would be delighted to attend Hamish’s birthday celebration. I’m quite fond of the otter exhibit. –MH**

 

            “Otters? Since when does he like otters?” Sherlock frowned.

            “I asked him that once.” Lestrade said fondly. “He said they remind him of someone.”

            “Daddy?” Hamish asked drawing their attention.

            “Yea bud?” John asked gesturing him over. Hamish scurried over crawling immediately into John’s lap.

            “I’m hungry.” Hamish announced seriously.

            “Alright alright, I’ll get started on something shall I?” John patted his son’s knee affectionately. “Greg, would you like to stay for dinner?”

            “No no, it’s date night you know.” Lestrade gave a sly grin before making his leave.

            “Alright Hamish, what sounds good for dinner?” John asked rising from the sofa with the little boy still snugly in his arms.

           

 

 

 

            Holland knocked loudly fervently wishing the door would open soon. He had taken the most circuitous route he knew to get here, meaning it had taken an extra hour. Finally the door opened revealing a slender immaculately dressed man.

            “Jim” He greeted his cousin.

            “Get in.” Jim ordered him.  

            Holland slid past him into the spacious flat and began pacing anxiously.

            “Sit for god sakes! Just because your family doesn’t mean I won’t kill you.” Jim growled.

            Holland knew that was a lie. Jim was certainly dangerous, and vicious, but he always treated Holland with a certain fond disdain. Holland knew it was as close to affection that Jim was likely able to give. Jim may threaten him repeatedly but he never really feared for his life. Thank god they had grown up together, otherwise he’s not so sure Jim would be as forgiving.

            “Hurry up, and get whatever this is over with, you and Moran need to head to Hong Kong tonight.” Jim ordered sitting opposite him in a sleek chair.

            “I think Moran’s a bit unstable to be trusted. Are you aware of his ob-”

            “Obsession with that doctor? Yes of course. He hasn’t shut up about him.” Jim interrupted sounding utterly bored.

            “You’re just going to let him muck about then?” Holland questioned incredulously.

            “Of course not! That’s why he’s being sent to Hong Kong. That trip will take at least two weeks, maybe longer. Plenty of time for him too cool down.” Jim rolled his eyes.

            “He’ll just continue when he gets back!” Holland asserted.

            “No, he won’t. I have made my opinions expressly clear to him. He’s convinced me that the doctor would be a valuable asset to our business, and after viewing Watson’s record I’m inclined to agree.”

            “I don’t think Watson would.” Holland disagreed.

            “No not now anyway. He does have that charming little child to think of however.”

            “Jim, I thought you vowed never to harm children, not after what you went through.” Holland warned.

            “Don’t tell me what I would presume to do.” Jim snapped his eyes flashing dangerously. “And no, for the record, all I meant was John surely could see the merit of taking a job with me, if only for monetary gain.”

            Holland relaxed. It was true, Jim paid extremely well. John’s son would want for nothing if John took the offer.

            “Still I think Moran has gone too far-” Holland began.

            “Stop worrying. He has been forbidden to do anything else, not until I have my show off with the Holmes brothers.” Jim explained. “So stop worrying your little head about it. You just go do what you’re told and leave the complex things to me.”

           

 

 

 

            After Jim had kicked his cousin out of the flat, he returned to his surveillance room and tapped into the cameras placed in a certain detective’s flat. Jim could admit that the doctor’s military record was quite impressive. If the official reports were to be believed he was as good of a shot as Moran.

            Moran’s skill with weapons and all around violence was why Jim kept him around. He was a bit of a loose cannon but the ex-sniper was unparalleled in his knowledge base and willing to do almost anything, unlike Jim’s cousin Holland. Holland stayed out of loyalty, but had some hang-ups occasionally over silly morality issues. 

            Jim watched the screen as the doctor made dinner in the tiny flat. What interested Jim the most about this man was Holmes’s reaction to him. Jim had searched for years to find a weak spot with the younger Holmes only to come up empty-handed. This kid shows up and then the doctor and all of a sudden it seems as if Jim has not one but two weak spots to poke at. He smiles into the screens calculating his next moves to test this theory out. Sure he had promised Seb his little happy family. He didn’t say he wasn’t going to play with them first however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do we think? 
> 
> Also again a big thanks to my new beta [mafm](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mafm/pseuds/mafm) I hope that I didn't miss any of the edits you so helpfully provided!
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed it! What do you think Hamish would like for his birthday?? Let me know here or on tumblr if you have a suggestion, you can find me [here](http://faroreaswind.tumblr.com)
> 
> for those of you who might be worried there is still a lot of fluffiness to be had. Also I want to reassure everyone that Sebastian isn't a psychopath, just delusional and as Moriarty says a bit of a loose cannon. This isn't meant to be a fic where Moran is just crazy like Jim, he does have more to him than that. Hopefully that will get a bit more clear when we get the story from his point of view later.


	22. In which Sherlock continues to surprise everyone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it says in the title. Sherlock surprises people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my Beta [mafm](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mafm/pseuds/mafm)

           

            John dried the last of the breakfast dishes and then made himself one more cup of tea before heading to the sitting room to sit down. Last night had been rough. After the rather long conversation with Sherlock and Greg, they had had a quiet dinner and watched a little telly before bed. Unfortunately, the day’s events led to him having a restless night. His tossing and turning caused Hamish to have a rather poor night’s sleep as well.

            John smiled at Hamish as he walked past him. After breakfast, Hamish had taken out his few building blocks and was playing about with them on the floor. The little boy’s motions were slow and weary, and he was still dressed in his pajamas. John sighed; they really needed to figure out alternate sleeping arrangements. Perhaps they could switch the bed out for two singles, he considered idly.

            He settled on the sofa after picking up a book he had been reading. Sherlock sat across from him deep in thought. After accepting a cup of tea that morning, the detective had informed him that he needed to retreat to his mind palace and not to be alarmed if he did not speak for a few hours. John, of course, had required an explanation. Once Sherlock explained his mind palace, he retreated to his chair and became utterly unaware of what was going on around him. John thought it made sense that someone as intelligent as Sherlock needed a way to compartmentalize things and the technique Sherlock employed was not unfamiliar to him, although calling it a mind palace had thrown him off a bit.

            John had been reading for about an hour when he noticed movement in his peripheral vision.  He glanced up and watched as his son walked slowly over to Sherlock. The detective was still lost in his own mind, his hands steepled under his chin. Without hesitation Hamish began to crawl into Sherlock’s lap. John was about to speak up and advise him to come to the sofa instead when Sherlock’s hands came down and pulled the small boy into his lap. John smiled as Hamish cuddled up to the vacant detective and began to nod off. Sherlock had wrapped one arm around the small boy while his other hand stroked Hamish’s back in a lazy manner.

            John felt such a rush of affection for Sherlock in that moment. He knew that Sherlock was not usually so accepting of close contact; his interactions with nearly everyone else made that quite clear. With Hamish however, Sherlock never seemed to mind accepting or showing affection. Hamish had never been so accepting of a person before either. The only people previously that Hamish had been so affectionate towards had been Harry and himself. After watching the pair for a few more minutes he returned to his book only to be distracted a few moments later by a mobile buzzing on the coffee table.

            John picked it up and realized it was Sherlock’s. He looked up at the detective who still had not moved and decided to answer it for him.

            “Hello?” He asked.

 _“John?”_ A female voice asked confused.

            “Yes, is this Molly?” He asked the familiar voice in return.

 _“Uh yea. Why are you answering Sherlock’s mobile?”_ She asked, sounding rather amused.

            “Well he’s stuck in his mind palace at the moment. Said he needed to sort through some things. If you need to talk to him I’ll tell him to give you a call whenever he decides to come out of it.” John informed her.

            “ _Yea, he does that sometimes.”_ She chuckled before continuing. _“Well, I was actually calling because I have some information on that powder he was running tests on and wondered if he’d like me to bring it by_?”

            “Oh, yea I’m sure that would be fine.” John confirmed. He had completely forgotten the powder the detective had scraped up in his old flat.

            “ _Great, I have my nephew with me today and we are headed to a park in your area after lunch. Would it be ok if I dropped it off then?”_

            “Yea that’s fine.” John agreed.

            _“Great! Well I’ll see you then!”_ She chirped happily before hanging up.

            John looked over to Sherlock, who was still staring off into space, completely oblivious to the conversation that had just occuured, and repressed a chuckle at the detective’s lack of attention. Sure, a child climbing into his lap he registers on some sort of level but a conversation is completely ignored.

John glanced at the clock and decided to head upstairs for a quick wash. Hamish was in good hands and clearly needed a bit of a lie down, so John would let him be for a while. He placed the mobile and book on the coffee table before heading upstairs quietly.

            After a nice hot shower and a good shave John made his way back downstairs, carefully avoiding the few rather noisy steps. He walked into the sitting room fully expecting Sherlock to still be lost in his mind but instead found Sherlock staring down at Hamish in utter confusion.

            “You alright there, Sherlock?” John asked with a smile.

            “How did he get here?” Sherlock looked up at him in befuddlement.

            “He got tired and crawled into your lap about an hour and a half ago.” John chuckled. “You helped him up and he fell asleep almost instantly.”

            “I don’t recall doing that.” Sherlock looked back down at the boy still curled against him.

            “Probably subconsciously done.” John assured him. “Should I have moved him?”

            “No, no he’s fine where he is.” Sherlock shook his head, his grip tightening slightly around the small boy before asking “Although, should he sleep much longer?”

            “Hm, another few minutes probably wouldn’t hurt but it is closing in on lunch time and Molly is swinging by at some point later to bring something over for you.”

            “What?” Sherlock asked.

            “She called while you were mentally absent. She said she had some information for you on that powder and she was asking to drop it off. I told her that was fine.” John explained.

            “Oh. Excellent.” Sherlock responded his eyes lighting up in excitement.

            “Well if you wanna start waking him up and get him to change out of his jim-jams I’ll start on making something for lunch.” John suggested.

            “Alright.” Sherlock nodded in agreement.

            John moved towards the kitchen smiling as he heard Sherlock whispering gently to his son. He set about making some sandwiches for the three of them, catching a glimpse of Sherlock carrying an awake but still sleepy looking Hamish upstairs.

            John had just finished the last of the sandwiches when Sherlock and Hamish returned downstairs. Hamish, looking much more awake, immediately scrambled into a chair and began munching on a bit of fruit that John had sliced up. John set a toasted ham and cheese sandwich down in front of him along with a glass of milk before placing two more plates down for Sherlock and himself.

            “John…” Sherlock whined in the doorway eyeing the food.

            “It’s one sandwich Sherlock. I’m sure your mental acuity won’t be dampened much by one sandwich.” John argued narrowing his eyes at the tall man.

            “Sirlock!” Hamish proclaimed looking up at the scowling detective. Hamish offered him an apple slice.

            Sherlock huffed and accepted the fruit before sitting down and attacking the sandwich viciously. Hamish giggled and went back to his own food, occasionally handing Sherlock a piece of fruit now and then. John repressed a chuckle as Sherlock took each one without argument and only a little bit of a scowl.

            Once the plates were clear of food John stacked them in the sink shaking his head in amusement as Hamish tugged Sherlock into the sitting room to play. He followed the pair and settled into the overstuffed red chair, as Sherlock was drug to the floor. Once Hamish was sure Sherlock wasn’t going anywhere he scampered to his toy box and pulled out the old operation game that was there and brought it over. John watched as Hamish paused and looked at him with a frown.

            “Daddy, you too!” The little boy declared with a frown.

            “Alright alright.” John chuckled and sunk to the floor next to Sherlock.

            They each took turns extracting the required item from the board. Sherlock was surprisingly good at the game. John did all right although his left hand was slightly shaky today. Hamish squealed every time he caused the game to buzz and then quickly dissolved into a ball of giggles, bringing a smile from both himself and Sherlock.  They had played the game through several times when a buzzer sounded. John looked to Sherlock in question.

            “That’ll probably be Molly. It sounds as if Mrs. Hudson is letting her in.” Sherlock explained looking toward the stairs.

            Sure enough John heard Mrs. Hudson opening the door and greeting someone. Sherlock stood up and moved to his chair causing Hamish to frown at him in disapproval. Light footfalls on the stairs caused the little boy to switch his attention to the doorway. Molly stepped in smiling at John, a young boy of about five or six behind her.

            “Hello John!” Molly greeted him with a smile. “This is my nephew Ben.”

            “Hello there Ben, I’m John and this is my son Hamish.” John returned smiling at the boy.

            “Hello.” Ben replied with a wave and a smile.

            “Everyone’s saying hello. Wonderful.” Sherlock grumbled. “I believe John said you had something for me Molly?”

            “The cranky one is Sherlock. Don’t mind him.” John commented rolling his eyes at the acerbic detective.

            Ben seemed unperturbed by Sherlock’s taciturn nature and moved closer to Hamish who was studying the older boy intently.

            “Here is that information Sherlock.” Molly offered a folder keeping an eye on her nephew.

            “Excellent.” Sherlock said gleefully seizing the folder and scanning the contents immediately.

            “It’s not much really. The specific chemical is still a mystery, although I detailed it’s structure and what compounds it seems most similar to. There were also trace elements of a chalky dust and a bit of pollen actually. The types I could get a match on are listed.” Molly shrugged.

            “Hm.” Was all Sherlock offered in response.

            John and Molly watched the two boys assess each other while Sherlock read through the report. Ben was smiling down at Hamish waiting for the younger boy to make a decision.

            “Hi.” Hamish quietly said smiling slightly. Apparently Ben had passed the test. “Do you want to play?”

            “I don’t think we are staying that long.” Ben replied apologetically before explaining. “Aunt Molly is taking me to the park around the corner.”

            “Oh.” Hamish replied sadly looking down at his lap. John’s heart squeezed a little at the sadness of the reply.

            “Maybe you could come with us?” Ben suggested.

            Hamish’s head snapped up at the suggestion before looking over at him with hopeful puppy dog eyes. John considered the idea. It would be great to get out of the flat, and Hamish could really benefit time playing with someone closer to his own age.

            “What do you think Sherlock?” John asked sure that Sherlock had heard the conversation.

            “If you wish to go one of Mycroft’s agents assigned to watch Baker St. will follow you to provide protection.” Sherlock commented without looking up from the papers.

            “You don’t want to come along?” He teased knowing full well what the answer would be.

            “Of course not, John, I have information to assess. Why would you think that-” Sherlock looked up at him in annoyance, stopping mid-sentence as he took in John’s expression and stating, “That was a joke.” 

            John smirked at him before turning to Molly.

            “Would you mind if we tagged along?” He asked her.

            “Not at all.” She grinned.

            Once he had coaxed an excited Hamish into his coat and scarf, they made to leave. John and Molly followed the two boys towards the door but stopped when Hamish suddenly turned and rushed over to Sherlock. He tugged on the detective’s trousers trying to get his attention.

            “Yes.” Sherlock looked down at him with an open expression.

            “You’re supposed to hug when you are leaving someone.” Hamish informed him reaching his arms up.

            Sherlock considered this information before slowly sinking down to Hamish’s level. He placed the file on the floor and pulled Hamish into a hug. John smiled and chuckled at Molly’s shocked expression. Once he was released Hamish scampered back over and followed Ben down the stairs, eager to get to the park.

            “We’ll be back in a few hours.” John informed the still kneeling detective before following Molly down the stairs.

 

 

 

            It was a relatively short walk to the park, and just as Sherlock had said as soon as he had stepped out of the door and began to walk down the street a man began to follow them. Once they were at the park the two boys ran off immediately to begin playing while John and Molly found an empty bench to sit on.

            “How old is Ben?” John asked as they settled down.

            “Five soon to be six.” Molly replied before asking, “Hamish is four?”

            “Tomorrow he will be.” John nodded.

            “Oh, he just seems so mature. I would have thought about to turn five if it wasn’t for his small size.” Molly looked at him in surprise.

            “Yea I’m afraid he’s probably got the short gene. Goodness knows I’m not overly tall. Neither was his mum.” John smiled before continuing. “He’s pretty advanced for his age though.”

            “Well they seem to get along despite the age difference.” Molly chuckled gesturing to the two children who were playing some sort of chasing game.

            They sat in silence for a while chuckling here and there as the boys played.

            “So how is the case going?” Molly asked glancing his way.

            “Well no more dead bodies have turned up so that’s good and we know who’s behind it.” John replied.

            “Well that is good news.” Molly beamed.

            “Yea, well I’m not sure how lucky they are going to be catching the guy though.” John said grimly. “I know what sort of man he is, and it’s not going to be easy.”

            “I’m sure it will work out.” Molly assured him with a hopeful smile.

            “One can only hope.” John agreed.

            “So is Sherlock always that way with Hamish?” Molly asked tentatively after a while.

            “Yes from what I’ve seen. I’m not sure what it is about Sherlock but Hamish seems completely at ease with him. From what I have gathered about Sherlock’s usual manner he must feel something similar judging by the way he easily relates to Hamish.” John relayed.

            “It is a sight to see.” Molly confirmed. “I’ve never seen him so relaxed. He’s the same around you as well.”

            “You two seem to do alright.” John commented.

            “Oh sure, but it’s taken two years to get to that sort of almost friendship.” Molly chuckled.

            “Oh?” John prodded for more information.

            “Oh yea. I was completely infatuated with him at the beginning.” Molly grinned. “Even when he was being a complete arse.”

            “Did he notice?” John smiled at her in understanding. Sherlock was highly intelligent, driven and extremely attractive, a good combination.

            “God no. He was completely oblivious. It took him a year to cotton on to the fact that I was flirting with him.” Molly laughed freely. “To be fair though I am rather rubbish at flirting.”

            “Don’t need to remind me I still remember your attempts with Matthew Havenshaw.” John laughed referencing a young doctor Molly had been attracted to during their residencies.

            “Ugh. Of course you would remember that.” Molly groaned.

            “So when Sherlock realized you were flirting did he attempt to flirt back?” John asked curious. Perhaps those two had tried at a relationship and it just hadn’t worked out.

            “No he very politely told me that girls were not his area.” Molly smiled. “Then preceded to tell me that it didn’t matter in any case because he was married to his work.”

            “Oh.” John said in surprise. So Sherlock was gay but not into relationships.    

            “I don’t think I would believe the same now though.” Molly smiled.

            “Believe what? John asked a little confused.

            “I don’t believe he is still married to his work.” Molly clarified before giving him a knowing grin.

            “I don’t know what you’re implying.” John looked over to the boys determined to not meet her gaze. “We are just friends.”

            “Uh-huh, for now.” Molly replied amusement clear.

 

 

 

 

 

            “Yoo-hoo, Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson called on the stairs.

            Sherlock remained where he was at the table, his laptop open in front of him, with Molly’s report and some of his own notes scattered about. After linking the chalky dust to a type of brick once used to build old factories he had contacted a member of his homeless network with instructions to scout out buildings of that description.

            “Sherlock, what are you up to?” Mrs. Hudson asked, stepping into the kitchen.

            “Busy.” He replied ruffling through his notes once more.

            “Do you and John need anything? I’m headed off to the store.” She asked.

            “You went to the store yesterday.” He stated without looking up.

            “Yes, I know that, but John asked me this morning if I would be willing to make a birthday cake for Hamish and I need a few ingredients.” Mrs. Hudson explained.

            “Right. Birthday.” Sherlock agreed still searching for a specific piece of paper.

            “I thought I would pop by Hamley’s and pick out a present as well.” Mrs. Hudson smiled. “It is nice having a little one around to spoil.”

            Sherlock paused in his search and looked up at Mrs. Hudson who was rattling on. Birthday. Hamish’s birthday was tomorrow. Birthdays required presents. He should definitely get the boy a present, right? What on earth do you get a normal child for a present? What if he picked something out that was wrong? What if Hamish didn’t like what he picked? He mildly panicked before seizing upon the solution.

            “Good, would you pick up a present from me as well? Something that conveys the proper idea. I’m sure whatever you will pick will be perfect.” He smiled at the landlady. Adding a bit of flattery always seemed to help in situation like these.

            “Sherlock Holmes!” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed staring at him in disapproval.

            “What? I have no idea what one buys for a proper birthday present. It has to be the right present.” Sherlock looked at her in confusion. What social rule was he breaking now?

            “Oh Sherlock.” Mrs. Hudson’s eyes softened. “Get your coat young man.”

            “Why?” He questioned.

            “Because I’m going to help you pick out the proper present. Come along now we don’t have all day.” She gave him a stern gaze. “Don’t make me confiscate your skull young man.”

            He stood up with a huff and got ready to leave with the persistent old bat.

 

 

 

 

            “Sherlock what did you do?” Mrs. Hudson asked eyeing all of his bags with wide eyes. Sherlock was struggling keeping ahold of all of them.

            She loved the eccentric detective like a son but sometimes she really just wanted to beat him over the head. He had complained the entire trip to the store and then had nearly made one of the sales girls cry in a misguided attempt to find an appropriate gift. Once she had finally gotten him to listen to her about what he should look for he had set off about the store on a mission ignoring her frustrated calls after him. Eventually she just set off to find something herself trusting that the genius would be able to work it out or have enough sense to find her again.

            “I did what you told me to!” Sherlock replied exasperatedly. “I used what I know about Hamish to pick out his presents!”

            “Yes dear, I see that, but why so many?” She asked him confused.

            “Well it occurred to me that John and his sister Harry hadn’t had a chance to pick out a present either so I picked out a few more things. In addition to that I was given to understand that birthday parties involving lots of children bringing presents are usually the custom and seeing as that isn’t going to be happening I didn’t want Hamish to miss out.” Sherlock explained looking at her worriedly. “Is that wrong?”

            Mrs. Hudson listened to his explanation and just barely stopped herself from giving the tall man a gigantic hug; she knew he wasn’t an overly affectionate man. She was going to have to find a way to do something special for Dr. Watson. Him and his son had been remarkably accepting of her favorite tenant, bringing out the best in the usually very reserved man.

            “No love, you did exactly right.” She smiled and motioned for him to follow her.

 

 

           

           

            John carefully stacked the papers on the table, trying to organize them roughly according to what he read on each one before moving them to the side and setting out a couple of plates.

They ended up staying at the park for three or four hours until the boys got too tired to keep playing. He and Molly had had a good long chat and almost hadn’t even noticed how late it was getting.

            When they finally made it back to the flat Sherlock was nowhere to be found, much to his confusion. John had set about giving Hamish a bath, scrubbing off the dirt and grass stains from play. Once Hamish was settled on the sofa watching cartoons he had decided to get together some sort of dinner hoping that Sherlock would return, from wherever he had disappeared to, fairly soon. He was about to call Hamish to dinner when he heard footsteps on the stairs.

            Sherlock appeared a few moments later looking tired. After hanging up his coat and scarf he moved to the stack of papers and after looking at the order John had placed them in he smiled.

            “Where did you run off to?” John asked placing a third plate down on the table.

            “Mrs. Hudson needed help with an errand.” Sherlock replied vaguely before placing the papers and laptop away.

            “Well that was nice of you to offer your help.” John smiled at him. “Want some dinner?”

            “Yes actually. I find that I am quite hungry.” Sherlock replied startling him. “I’ll get Hamish.”

            Once John recovered from the shock of Sherlock simply agreeing to eat dinner he smiled and began portioning out the chicken and rice dish he had made onto each plate. John found himself quite pleased that he had made one of his best dishes tonight.

 

 

 

 

 

            Jim entered his flat and slid his suit jacket off, tossing it over the couch. Running a criminal empire all day could be quite exhausting, especially when so many people were morons. He paused by his personal bar and poured himself a good portion of his favorite whiskey before switching on his stereo and making his way down to his personal surveillance room.

            He looked over a brief update from Holland, pleased to see that Moran was doing his job well and not pulling any crazy stunts. He really didn’t want to have to put down his favorite sniper. After a long sip of his drink Jim turned to a separate monitor and pulled up the day’s footage from Baker Street. The older Holmes really needed to hire a better computer tech if he didn’t want his systems repeatedly hacked. He viewed each camera’s footage on fast forward trying to quickly see if there was anything worth noting.

            It wasn’t long before he was provided with something rather interesting. A woman and another boy entered the flat around 1:30. He paused and got a good image of her face before turning to another computer screen and tracking her.

Hmm. A pathologist at St. Barts, works closely with Scotland Yard and seems to have a past with John as well. Ah yes there it is, he grinned as he found the answer, they were residents together. Well well well, perhaps this little mouse could be quite useful indeed.

           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta da! Sorry I haven't updated earlier but to make up for it it was much longer than normal. 
> 
> Next time is all about the birthday. 
> 
> I do hope you are all still enjoying and nobody is getting annoyed or disappointed. You guys have been so awesome and the last thing I want to do is upset you all. Which brings me to another thanks! this just reached 600 kudos and I am just so grateful to you all! Really! You guys are just awesome!


	23. Happy 4th Birthday Hamish!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hamish has a birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to my beta mafm!!!

 

 

            “Hay-mish.” John gently, coaxed as he softly stroked Hamish’s hair. “Buddy, it’s time to wake up!”

            The little boy had been so exhausted after his full day of play that John actually woke up a good hour before Hamish. John had quietly gotten himself ready for the day and decided to get a start on breakfast before waking Hamish up. When he was halfway done with breakfast, he set Sherlock with the task of making sure nothing burned while he returned upstairs to wake the little boy.

Hamish, still fast asleep, was cuddled up almost in the middle of the bed with his head resting on the penguin toy from Sherlock, while the elephant toy that Hamish had grown rather attached to was clutched under his arm in a death grip so tight that John was afraid the head of the toy might actually fall off.

            “Come on Haym!” John continued, slightly louder, “It’s a big day today!”

            The little boy slowly opened his eyes and looked at him groggily.

            “Don’t you remember what today is?” John asked playfully.

            “It’s my birfsday.” Hamish replied, his speech still slurred slightly from sleep.

            “That’s right! And do you remember where Daddy said we were going for your birthday?” John tapped the boy’s nose once.

            “The zoo!!!” Hamish replied grinning widely.

            “Yep! But you can’t go in just your jim-jams buddy!!!” John teased him tickling Hamish’s side slightly.

            The little boy giggled and squirmed trying to get away, releasing his hold on his toy. John chased after him a few more minutes before scooping him up and setting about getting Hamish dressed properly. Once Hamish was happily clothed in a new pair of trousers and his favorite striped jumper John sent him downstairs while he turned to make up the bed. He picked up Hamish’s elephant toy and smiled fondly. The neck of the animal was so squished that it was no longer able to support the weight of the head, causing it to permanently droop to one side pathetically. John chuckled before setting it on the desk and making the bed.

            Downstairs he found Hamish waiting patiently for breakfast. Sherlock was where John had left him, watching over the food with a look of deep concentration. John came up behind him and peeked at the food.

            “I think those are done if you want to serve them.” John decided after studying the eggs carefully.

            “Oh!” Sherlock jumped, surprised at his sudden presence. Sherlock looked down at him briefly before agreeing. “Right.”

            While Sherlock busied himself with dishing out the eggs John checked the sausage and bacon and found them to be done as well. He moved the meat to a plate before placing a few of pieces of sliced tomato in the pan to toast. He turned to the table and found Hamish and Sherlock both watching him. Sherlock looked at the plate of meat in his hand and with a long-suffering sigh reached for the plate. John relinquished the plate and watched as Sherlock selected one piece of bacon and the smallest sausage on the plate for himself before placing a few pieces of meat on Hamish’s plate. John smiled and turned to grab the pot of warmed beans and passed that to Sherlock as well. While Sherlock busied himself with portioning out the food, John prepared some toast. Once the tomatoes and toast were done, John turned and sat down.

            All settled, they all began to tuck in. John smiled as Hamish bounced and hummed as he ate, clearly filling with excitement as time wore on.

            “What time did your brother say he was sending a car around?” John asked in between bites.

            “Ten o’clock, I believe.” Sherlock replied.

            John nodded and glanced at the clock. They had about an hour to kill and John wasn’t really sure how they were going to keep Hamish calm while they waited. Once Hamish had cleared his plate he looked up at John expectantly.

            “Time to go now??” The little boy asked excitedly.

            “Not quite. Why don’t you play a game for a little while, hmm?” John smiled, taking the empty dishes to the sink.

            “Sirlock do you wanna play hide and seek?” John heard Hamish ask.

            “Uh, I’m not sure…” Sherlock began. John turned and found the detective flustered and uncertain.

            “Sherlock it’s as simple as it sounds. He goes and hides and after a short period of time you go find him.” John explained.

            “Right. Well off you go then.” Sherlock nodded at Hamish.

            Hamish squealed excitedly and ran off in the direction of the sitting room.

            “How long should I wait?” Sherlock looked at him hesitantly.

            “You can usually wait five minutes or so before he gets impatient. When you go to look for him pretend you don’t already know where he is, make a big show of looking in places where he can’t be.” John explained.

            “Why?” Sherlock looked at him perplexed. “If I know where he is why put on such a big farce? Isn’t it the point to find him?”

            “Yes it is but he’s little and his hiding places aren’t all that good. If you find him right away he will be disappointed.” John elaborated with a smile.

            Sherlock considered this for a few minutes before nodding and standing up. John turned and began to wash up, chuckling as he listened to Sherlock pretend to look for Hamish.

            “Hm. Where might Hamish be? Well Hamish is rather small and I bet he wiggled under this table here.” Sherlock announced theatrically.

            John glanced over briefly and chuckled more watching as the detective feigned frustration at not finding Hamish. He realized as he watched, that while Sherlock still wore a crisply ironed dress shirt and a suit jacket, he had opted for well-fitted jeans today instead of his usual trousers. John watched as Sherlock swanned around the room making a show of looking for Hamish everywhere but where he could possibly be, silently appreciating the view of the detective’s backside. He shook himself and returned to his task of cleaning, leaving the two to their game.

            By the time John joined them in the sitting room they had played three rounds and Hamish was currently hiding behind John’s chair and giggling furiously as Sherlock searched for him across the room.

            “I bet Hamish is under this pillow here.” Sherlock said seriously before lifting the said pillow up. “No, not here! I just have no idea! John I think I may have lost your son.”

            Sherlock flopped on the sofa dramatically. John tried not to chuckle as he heard Hamish giggling quietly behind his chair.

            “Sherlock! Are you just giving up?” John smiled.

            “Well John, I’ve just looked everywhere! We might have to go to the zoo without him.” Sherlock sighed.

            “I’m right here, silly!!!” Hamish popped out from behind John’s chair.

            “Oh, there you are!!” Sherlock sighed. “You are just too good at this game!”

            John smiled and pulled a giggling Hamish around and into his lap.

            “Sirlock is gonna have to practice!” Hamish giggled.

            “Yea, I guess he will.” John chuckled.

            “We can go to the zoo now?” Hamish looked at him hopefully.

            “As soon as the car gets here.” John nodded.

            Sherlock’s mobile beeped suddenly and John watched as Sherlock checked his messages.

            “The car’s downstairs.” Sherlock announced after reading the message.

            “Yay!!! Time to go to the zoo!! To the zoo!!!!” Hamish cheered climbing off John’s lap and racing towards his coat.

            John and Sherlock followed grabbing their coats and racing after the more than excited child. Downstairs John wrestled an impatient Hamish into his coat before letting him go outside.

            Hamish immediately rushed to the side of the car and tried to open the door. John chuckled and opened the door for him.

            “Hello Greg, Mycroft.” He greeted as Hamish stalled in front of him.

            “Hello John. I have arranged a car to pick your sister up.” Mycroft informed him.

            “Haym, what’s the hold up buddy.” John asked peeking into the car and spotting a booster seat in the middle seat. “Come on, you’ve done this before.”

            Hamish sighed and crawled in allowing Sherlock, who had walked around the other side, to buckle him in. Once they were all buckled Greg pulled into traffic.

            “Sirlock, are you excited??” Hamish asked.

            “Of course.” Sherlock nodded solemnly. “I love the zoo.”

            Greg coughed violently in the front seat at that causing John to hide a smile. Sherlock shot the rearview mirror a glare before turning his attention back to the little boy.

            “What animal do you wanna see?” Hamish continued completely unaware of the exchange.

            “The Galapagos tortoises.” Sherlock said after a moment’s thought.

            “The lapa dos what?” Hamish asked confused.

            “Galapagos tortoise.” Sherlock smiled. “It’s the largest tortoise in the world.”

            Hamish looked over to John, confusion still clouding his face.

            “A tortoise is kind of like a turtle.” John explained.

            “Oh.” Hamish smiled and looked back at Sherlock. “How big are they?”

            “Big enough for you to ride.” Sherlock replied smiling as Hamish’s eyes went wide with shock.

            Sherlock whispered a few more things to Hamish that caused the little boy to giggle. John noticed that Greg was grinning and watching the two in the rearview mirror.  

            “What about you Mr. Gavin?” Hamish asked the inspector.

            “It’s Greg, Hamish.” John corrected noting the smirk on Sherlock’s face at this.

            “Sherlock said his name was Gavin.” Hamish replied tilting his head to the side in bewilderment.

            “It’s Greg.” Greg replied glaring at Sherlock through the rearview mirror.

            “Oh. Well what do you wanna see??” Hamish asked again.

            “I like the monkeys.” Greg replied turning his head and flashing a smile at the little boy.

            Hamish nodded before turning his attention to Mycroft.

            “Mr. Mycroft?” Hamish began.

            “I am looking forward to the otters, Hamish.” Mycroft answered sharing a smile with Greg. 

            Sherlock snorts at this drawing Hamish’s attention.

            “Do you not like them?” Hamish asked curiously.

            “Of course not. They are ridiculous creatures.” Sherlock sniffed.

            “I quite agree, they are.” Mycroft remarked sending Greg another smile. John choked back a laugh at the perplexed expression that graced Sherlock’s face for a few moments at this.

            “Well, ridiculous or not we are going to see them.” Greg announced as they parked.

            John unbuckled Hamish, and then laughed as the little boy catapulted himself out of the child’s seat and after Sherlock, immediately grabbing the detective’s hand as soon as he was out of the car. Sherlock smiled looked back at John as if to say, ‘Do hurry up.’

            John took hold of Hamish’s other hand and the three followed Greg and Mycroft to the ticket stand. As Greg was procuring the entry tickets they stood to the side, trying to keep ahold of Hamish who had begun to seemingly vibrate with excitement.

            “Mycroft, didn’t have anything casual to wear?” John teased noting that the elder Holmes brother was dressed, as usual, in an immaculate three-piece suit.

            “This is my casual suit.” Mycroft remarked looking down at his attire in confusion.

            “Oh right, my mistake.” John tried not to smile.

            “John!” John turned at Harry’s voice.

            “Harry! You made it! You look fantastic!” John gave her a hug once she was close enough, looking her over carefully.  
            “Thank you, I feel great.” She smiled at him before bending down to Hamish. “And how is the birthday boy today?”

            “Great! Daddy made a yummy breakfast then Sirlock played hide and seek with me, only he’s not very good at it but that’s ok, Daddy says he can practice. Then we got in a car and now we get to go see all the animals!” Hamish rambled on in excitement.

            “Hide and seek?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow at his brother.

            “It _is_ his birthday, I couldn’t say no.” Sherlock defended himself.

            “That’s true enough.” Harry agreed standing upright again and smiling at John.

            “Right, in we go!” Greg turned back, handing the tickets to Mycroft.

            Sherlock snagged a map of the park from a stand and began looking through it as they walked inside.

            “This can’t be right.” Sherlock remarked causing the other four adults to look back at him.

            “What is it now?” Greg asked rolling his eyes.

            “They don’t have elephants listed anywhere. Why don’t they have elephants?” Sherlock remarked while scouring over the map in irritation.

            “They moved that exhibit to the park in Bedfordshire back in 2001.” Greg replied.

            “Why didn’t we go there then? Why go some place that doesn’t even have his favorite animal?” Sherlock frowned, looking up.

            “It’s ok Sirlock.” Hamish patted Sherlock’s hand. “We can go to that one next year.”

            Sherlock paused looking down at the boy in shock. After a few minutes Sherlock looked up at him with a panicked expression. John could read the anxiousness and desire to say the right thing.

            “Yes, I think next year we might have to take him there hmm?” John asked with a smile.

            Sherlock swallowed and finally smiled down at the little boy and gave a quick nod.

 

 

 

            Sherlock had been genuinely shocked that the little boy seemed to honestly want him to be around for his next birthday, which was simply illogical. Once John’s case was resolved surely John would want to move out. He had fully expected John to explain to the little boy that they wouldn’t be living with Sherlock anymore by this time next year, so when John had simply agreed with Hamish’s statement Sherlock was thrown off even more.

            He followed along with the group shutting out the chatter as they walked towards the first exhibit. He was still trying to process John’s actions and only mildly aware that Hamish’s hand had left his own. Perhaps John simply didn’t want to disappoint the boy on his birthday. Yes that was it, Sherlock reasoned. He focused in on what was happening once again.

            Hamish was now sat on top of Greg’s shoulders and giggling as they walked towards the outback animals. Harry was chatting to Greg and Mycroft while John remained next to him as they strolled.

            “Sorry about that.” John smiled sheepishly. “I hope you don’t mind me saying you would come with us, I mean I know you’ll probably have another case on by then but maybe if you don’t, ya know, you could come along…”

            “You mean it?” Sherlock looked down at him.

            “Of course, I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.” John smiled. “Hamish likes you, and after all this mess with Moran is dealt with, well, I imagine he is still going to want to hang out with his favorite detective.”

            “Oh.” Sherlock pondered this for a moment. “Surely you wouldn’t want that though. You’re probably already sick of me.”

            “Why would you think that?” John looked at him amused. “Despite everything going wrong in the past week, I actually have quite enjoyed getting to you know you.”

            “Hm.” Sherlock smiled at this, studying John intently before adding. “Likewise.”

            “Daddy! Sirlock come on!!!!” Hamish called to them impatiently causing them both to chuckle.

 

 

            “Look kangaroos!!!” Hamish excitedly pointed out. The little boy began squirming and patting Greg’s head. “Down!!! Down!!!”

            Greg laughed and set the little boy down. Hamish ran over to the edge of the enclosure, Sherlock close behind.

            “Actually these are wallabys, not kangaroos.” Sherlock explained. “Kangaroos are much larger.”

            John smiled as Hamish began to question Sherlock about the other differences between the two animals. He turned and scanned the park, still slightly nervous about this outing. He knew that they were well-protected; he could spot three of Mycroft’s agents hanging around in casual clothes and mingling with other families. Still, John worried.

            “Relax, mate.” Greg said from beside him.

            “I’m trying, I just don’t want anything to ruin the day for Hamish.” John said quietly.

            “Nothing is going to happen.” Greg assured him. “Mycroft has had a few reports come in from agents in China that he was seen at an airport in Hong Kong a day or so ago.”

            “Just reports?” John asked skeptically.

            “Mycroft’s agents are good, they wouldn’t have reported it if they weren’t for sure. From what I understand he has all of his agents on high alert, Moran is up to more than just stalking you it seems.” Greg shrugged. “Myc won’t say more than that though.”

            John nodded taking this information in and relaxing slightly.

            “How did he even get out of the country so fast without being detained?? Can he get in just as easily?” John questioned becoming nervous again.

            “I’m not sure entirely. All I know is that the employees that let him pass at Heathrow weren’t actual employees. Whatever he’s up to he’s covering his tracks.” Greg sighed. “Still, you shouldn’t worry. Mycroft is keeping close tabs on the situation.”

            John nodded and began to relax a little.

 

 

            The group got through the outback animals, the tigers, and gorilla territory before deciding to break for lunch at the café. They had skipped over the reptile house after Hamish’s stout refusal to go in. Even facts about harmless snakes from Sherlock couldn’t persuade Hamish to give it a go.

            They were all seated and finishing up their meals when Hamish started up his questions once more.

            “Aunt Harry what’s your favorite animal???” Hamish asked through a mouthful of burger.

            “I like the penguins.” Harry replied smiling at her nephew.

            “We saw pengwengs at the aquarium!!!!” Hamish told her excitedly.

            “You did?” Harry asked with equal enthusiasm. “Did you like them?”

            “Uh-huh! But I feel bad for them.” Hamish explained.

            “Why do you feel bad for them, Haym?” John questioned with an amused glance.

            “Well, Sirlock said they couldn’t fly even though they’re birds, so they can’t go fly with all their other bird friends.” Hamish explained as if it should be obvious.

            “Yes Hamish, I imagine that is quite distressing for them.” Mycroft agreed.

            “But Hamish what did I tell you they do better than all the other birds?” Sherlock prompted the little boy.

            “They swim!” Hamish looked at Aunt Harry proudly. “They swim very fast!! Aunt Harry!”

            “They do, you’re right.” Harry smiled.

            “Hamish why haven’t you asked John’s favorite animal?” Greg asked.

            “Daddy likes lions.” Hamish replied grinning at John.

            “That’s right I do.” John nodded.

            “Why?” Sherlock asked, genuinely curious. 

            “He says they are strong and protect their family.” Hamish replied before the doctor could respond.

            “Not to mention the cool hair.” John added with a smirk causing Hamish to giggle.

           

 

 

            Once they had all finished their meals they set off once more to explore more of the park. When they finally made it to the petting area Hamish excitedly scampered off to pet as many animals that would let him, with John close behind. Sherlock hung back and watched as Greg reached out to pet a llama only to have the animal spit at him. Sherlock smiled as Hamish and Harry collapsed into giggles. Even John was having a difficult time as Lestrade cursed under his breath and shooed the animal away.

            “You seem very attached.” Mycroft commented beside him.

            “Don’t start, Mycroft.” Sherlock clipped. “I don’t want to hear about how caring is not an advantage. You’re such a hypocrite.”

            “I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort. I learned the error of my ways a while ago, brother.” Mycroft said gently.

            Sherlock turned to look at his brother and was totally unprepared for the sincerity in his brother’s gaze.

            “John is a good man.” Mycroft continued.

            “Yes he is.” Sherlock agreed.

            “Don’t let opportunity pass because you are afraid to risk yourself, Brother Mine.” Mycroft advised.

            “Are we really going to do this?” Sherlock asked with contempt.

            “You are both still quite young,” Mycroft paused “I wish I had met Greg much earlier on in my life. Don’t waste an opportunity.”

            “I don’t need you to tell me what to do.” Sherlock asserted.

            “Oi! What are you two looking so serious over here for?” Lestrade called as the others came back towards them.

            “No reason.” Mycroft turned towards his husband with a smile before looking down at Hamish. “Where to next?”

            “Otters!!!” Hamish announced reaching for Mycroft’s hand.

 

 

            “I don’t understand the appeal.” Sherlock remarked holding the stuffed otter toy Mycroft had presented Hamish with as the left the gift shop.

            Hamish had become enchanted with the little creatures squealing in delight as a few of them swam around playfully. For some reason, after studying the creatures for a while, the little boy had studied him for a bit as well before grinning up at Mycroft.

            “I like them!” Hamish reached for the otter once more.

            “What are you going to name your new friend?” Lestrade asked from the front seat of the car.

            “His name is going to be Basil!” Hamish announced happily.

            “Why does that sound familiar?” Sherlock looked across to John.

            “It’s after the mouse detective.” John explained with a smile.

            “Right that movie we watched.” Sherlock nodded remembering. “Why that name?”

            “Because.” Hamish said as if that explained everything.

            “Because why? That’s not a proper response!” Sherlock huffed.

            “Don’t badger the boy on his Birthday. He just wanted to name it after his favorite character.” Lestrade grinned.

            “It seems as if Harry beat us here.” John remarked, changing the subject as they pulled up to 221B.

            Harry was standing on the front stoop and chatting away to Mrs. Hudson. Once they had parked and joined the two women Hamish looked up at Mrs. Hudson and gave her a quick hug.

            “Happy birthday!!!” Mrs. Hudson grinned down at the boy. “Well, come in! Come in!!”

            She waved them all in and up the stairs. The old lady patted his arm as he passed her and gave him a wink. Upstairs they found a nice dinner waiting in the kitchen as well as a fair amount of balloons floating about

            “Wow!!” Hamish squealed batting a few of the balloons about.

            “Mrs. Hudson! You didn’t have to do all of this!” John looked around in shock.

            “Oh pish-posh. You can’t have a birthday without balloons!” Mrs. Hudson replied steering Hamish to a seat on the end of the table with balloons tied to the chair. “Have a seat everyone and dig in!”

            They all shuffled around the table and picked a seat. Sherlock sat beside Hamish, with his brother and Lestrade squeezing in on his other side. John sat across from them with his sister while Mrs. Hudson took a seat at the other end of the table.

            Once everyone had eaten enough to satisfy Mrs. Hudson, she disappeared for a few minutes only to bring back a round cake covered in green frosting with four lit and candles on top. Hamish squealed in delight and wiggled in his seat.

            “Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you!” Mrs. Hudson began to sing. John, Lestrade and Harry quickly joined in, Harry belting it out as loud as possible. Sherlock looked to Mycroft who was watching with a smile but refusing to sing. He smirked as Lestrade elbowed his brother in the side. With a grimace Mycroft began to sing along softly causing Sherlock to chuckle. He looked back at Hamish who was looking with glee at the cake that was sat in front of him. Sherlock looked up at John who narrowed his eyes at him before kicking him under the table. Sighing, Sherlock joined in to sing the last part of the song.

            “Alright now make a wish and blow out the candles!” Harry prompted. Sherlock looked over at her to see her holding a camera and snapping a photo every now and then.

            They all waited for a while as Hamish thought determinedly on what he was going to wish for. Finally Hamish looked up and glanced at him and John with a smile before leaning forward and blowing out his candles.

            “I want a big piece!!!” Hamish announced smiling as everyone clapped and laughed.

            “So does Mycroft.” Sherlock said under his breath. John kicked him again under the table and shot him a disapproving stare.

            Mrs. Hudson carefully cut and served everyone a piece of the cake smiling as everyone complimented her on how delicious all the food has been. Hamish was halfway through his piece by the time Mrs. Hudson sat down again. He had smudges of green frosting on his check and chocolate crumbs around his mouth, which Harry snapped several pictures of.

            “Are you having a good birthday?” John asked, smiling as Hamish finished off his piece of cake. Hamish nodded enthusiastically causing them all to smile.

            “Well, that was a lovely cake Mrs. Hudson.” Mycroft complimented wiping his mouth with a napkin.

            “It’s real yummy!” Hamish agreed.

            “I’m glad! I must say I’ve never made a cake with green frosting before.” Mrs. Hudson chuckled looking around at everyone’s empty plates. “Why don’t we all move to the sitting room where we can spread out? I think there are a few more surprises in there.”

            “What is it?? What is it??” Hamish asked scrambling from his seat and racing into the other room.

 

 

            Harry shot him a questioning glance to which John just shrugged in reply. They both followed everyone into the sitting room. Sherlock and Mycroft had already taken a seat while Greg was just moving to sit next to Mycroft on the sofa. Hamish was standing in front of a pile of presents with a huge grin on his face. Harry moved to sit in the other chair and pulled out her camera once more.

            John stood to the side and looked at the stack of presents. There were two presents wrapped in black and white paper with the words ‘Happy Birthday’ printed all over it. The other nine presents in the pile were all wrapped in colorful paper that had various animals printed all over it.

            “Well go ahead and open one.” Mrs. Hudson nudged Hamish before coming to stand by him.

            Hamish picked one of the black and white presents and as careful as a four year old can be, pulled the card off and handed it to John before sitting down and ripping the paper off excitedly.  John opened the card and read the short message from Greg and Mycroft out loud. When John looked up, Hamish was staring at the box of plastic play animals with interest.

            “What do you say Hamish?” John coaxed.

            “Thank you!!! Now I can have my own zoo!!!” Hamish smiled at Mycroft and Greg.

            “And a very good zookeeper you’ll make.” Greg chuckled.

            The second black and white present was also from Mycroft and Greg and contained a new set of jim-jams. The pajama top had a hood that had large elephant ears and a trunk attached. The bottoms just had pictures of little elephants printed repeatedly. Hamish immediately wanted to put them on, luckily John convinced him to wait until bedtime at least.

            John took another card from Hamish as the little boy began to rip into the animal print. Opening he read a sweet message from Mrs. Hudson. He looked at the large stack of presents left, wrapped in the exact same paper and turned to the old lady.

            “You didn’t have to go through so much trouble Mrs. Hudson.” He told her concerned at the amount of presents that were from her.

            “Only that one is from me dear. I just wrapped the others.” Mrs. Hudson smiled and pointed to the present Hamish was holding, a science experiment book for young children and the smallest lab coat he had ever seen.

            “Then what about all the others?” John looked back at her confused. The old lady just looked towards Sherlock and raised her eyebrows. John looked over at the man in question, who was helping Hamish try on his very own lab coat.

            “When did he…”  John began before the realization struck. “When he helped you with an errand yesterday?”

            Mrs. Hudson simply nodded and moved to sit down on the sofa.

            “Now I can really help you!” Hamish pronounced looking down at his buttoned lab coat then back up at Sherlock in adoration.

            Hamish moved on and opened several new puzzles, which the card said were from Harry much to her confusion. She accepted the hug from Hamish anyway while looking to John in bemusement. There was also a set of plastic 3D brainteaser puzzles, some new storybooks (which apparently were Sherlock approved), a large set of building blocks, a board game called Qwirkle, some new coloring books and crayons and a large elephant hand puppet that Sherlock was currently teasing Hamish with. There had been one card for the rest of the presents that had read from Sherlock and John, which Harry had raised her eyebrows at, but it made John smile. 

            “Well John, I should be getting back.” Harry said as they watched Sherlock playing with Hamish. She had already hugged Hamish goodbye and had her coat in her hand.

            “I’ll walk you out!” John replied following her down the stairs.

            “He seems really happy. Much happier than the last time I saw him.” Harry smiled at him.

            “Yea, he does.” John agreed.

            “You seem pretty happy too.” She gave him a knowing grin.

            “We are just friends Harry.” John warned her.

            “Well for now, ‘Love Sherlock and John’?” She giggled.

            “I thought it was sweet that the made them both from us.” John looked away.

            “No, it was, you’re right.” Harry drew him into a hug. “Tell him thanks from me. I’m guessing he was the one to pick out my present as well.”

            “Yea, I will.” John chuckled, releasing her and waving as the car drove away.

            When John walked back upstairs he found everyone on the floor constructing what looked like a massive castle out of the new blocks. Sherlock was sitting cross-legged with Hamish sitting in his lap. The two were working on a tower while Mycroft built up the inner structure of smaller buildings and Greg constructed the outer walls. Mrs. Hudson was watching fondly, taking a picture every now and then with John’s phone.

            John stood and watched for a while his heart squeezing every time Hamish giggled happily and Sherlock’s grin got wider and wider. John almost wanted to thank the organization that Mary worked for, kidnapping them and allowing Sherlock to come into their lives was turning out to be quite wonderful. He definitely couldn’t imagine going back to a life without him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was fun to write! It seems as if I'm trending towards longer chapters as opposed to more frequent chapters... sorry... 
> 
> Everyone's had that toy when they were younger that was maybe a little too loved right? My sister had a patch stuffed animal (101 dalmations) that my mother had to continually fix. She even tried opening it up and adding some more stuffing to the neck a few times. 
> 
> Also I imagine Greg is fond of the monkey exhibit because it reminds him of work where he has to deal with a bunch of monkeys. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!! And look I didn't even have Jim watching them creepily through cameras this time around!!


	24. Preconceived notions and an ill-timed venture into the wrong warehouse.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a Yarder has to rethink what they know and Sherlock does something reckless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my Beta [mafm](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mafm/pseuds/mafm)!!!!

 

 

            Greg sighed in relief when he saw that the light was still on at 221B, although he was a little curious as to why Sherlock was standing in front of the window playing his violin at this time of night. About two hours after Hamish’s birthday dinner, Greg had been called away to a crime scene. They had just finished interviewing the last of the suspects and at least according to his Sergeant, it was an open and shut case. Greg wasn’t so sure, which was what was leading him, and his suspicions, to Sherlock.

            He pulled up to the curb and turned to Donovan, who had insisted on coming.

            “I suggest that if you can’t say anything helpful or pleasant, you refrain from speaking.” He warned her.

            “Sir, I don’t see why we need his help at all. Clearly, the sister did it.” Donovan scoffed.  

            “I’m not so sure, and there is no harm in asking Sherlock to take a look.” He said in a clipped voice before exiting the car.

            Greg let himself in with a key that Mrs. Hudson had given him a while ago and quietly made his way upstairs, Donovan close behind. At the top of the stairs Greg paused in the open doorway, taking in the scene.

            John was asleep on the sofa; the blanket that was covering him starting to drift towards the floor. Sherlock was still playing his violin, a soft lullaby-like melody, although he had turned towards the door in anticipation of their presence. Limp balloons floated in a corner and Hamish’s presents, with the exception of the building blocks, were stacked neatly under a window out of the way, presumably John’s doing. The castle of building blocks sat in the middle of the floor with the addition of plastic zoo animals peeking out around the construction. Greg smiled; clearly Hamish had decided that his zoo animals needed a kingdom to live in instead of a normal zoo. 

            “There a reason John isn’t sleeping in an actual bed?” Greg asked quietly.

            “He’s been having trouble sleeping. He is concerned his tossing about is keeping Hamish up, so he ‘accidently’ fell asleep out here.” Sherlock replied, after setting his violin down. “What do you need?”

            “If you could take a quick look at this?” Greg stepped forward and handed him the file. “The evidence points to the sister, but something seemed off. The fiancé seemed like he might have been hiding something.”

            “Have a seat if you must.” Sherlock gestured offhandedly to a chair as he skimmed over the contents of the file.

            “Actually, I think I’ll make myself a cuppa.” Greg started moving off to the kitchen.

            “Milk, two sugars.” Sherlock responded, causing Greg to smile.

 

 

           

            Sherlock ignored Donovan as she sat down and looked around the flat in bemusement. Instead, he eagerly turned his attention to the file. He had actually quite enjoyed celebrating Hamish’s birthday, to his own astonishment. However, Sherlock was grateful for a case to focus on now that only he was awake, even if it only rated a level four.

            After reading through the testimonies, background checks, reports and looking through the case photographs, he smiled and looked up to find Lestrade casually leaning on the doorframe and sipping his tea.

            “Well done Lestrade, it seems something has rubbed off on you after all these years.” Sherlock commented looking down at his table to see his own steaming cup of tea.

            “You mean I’m right, and it really is the fiancé?” Lestrade asked him in shock.

            “No, I didn’t say that.” Sherlock smirked before taking a sip of the tea and then tried not to make a face. Not enough milk for his liking. John got it right on the first try. How could Lestrade, who had known him for years, still be inept at making it?

            “Well, come on then.” Lestrade prodded impatiently.

            “Your hunch that something seemed off was good, although you’ll find the step-father to be the one behind it, not the fiancé.” Sherlock said plainly.

            “How could he? He wasn’t even in town!” Donovan scoffed, clearly unimpressed with Sherlock’s deduction.

            “The construction that he had done on the house.” Sherlock stated.

            “What construction? It doesn’t say anything in there about construction!” Donovan glared.

            “The pictures, how do you not see?” He shot back testily. “Here, you can see that wall is slightly different from the one next to it. The crown molding and the crease in the wallpaper give it away. Obvious.” Sherlock huffed.

            “Alright, but what does that have to do with how he killed her?” Lestrade puzzled.

            “The toxicology report states that the girl was killed by ricin, which can be administered in many forms, and still cause similar symptoms ,as well as death. Now, we know that the other sister is a nurse at a local hospital where there is research being conducted on this poison. Certainly she could have found a way to obtain some from a highly secured lab where she would have no clearance or purpose to be, and poison her sister, but there is another scenario that is far more likely and in fact, the correct one. The step-father works at a bio-medical research center, which also conducts research with this particular poison. His position in the company would enable him easy access to every research lab in the building.”

            “All you have established is that he would be able to access the poison. He still has an alibi.” Donovan sneered.

            “Which of course brings me back to the construction. If you examine the walls closely you will find a means of dispersing the poison in aerosol form into the murdered girl’s bedroom. The step-father released the poison into her room in the early hours of the morning, dosing the girl. In the case of the aerosolized poison, it typically takes anywhere from 4 to 8 hours for someone to start showing symptoms of poisoning. In this case, it was closer to four hours due to the high concentration of poison, and the proximity to where the girl was sleeping. Because the victim did not immediately show symptoms, it allowed the step-father to fashion his alibi. He would be at work, out of town, while the other sister would be at home, cooking breakfast, when the victim fell ill. Obviously the sister would be implicated.” Sherlock finished as he tried to take another sip of his tea.

            “Why on earth would he go through all of that trouble?” Lestrade asked, horrified.

            “Money. Once his sstep-daughters marry their trusts from their mother would be released to them. So naturally when one daughter got engaged, he sought to prevent his meal ticket for an easy living from ending. He likely had some sort of help, so I would question him heavily.” Sherlock explained.

            “Well, that was not the outcome I expected.” Lestrade replied, rubbing the back of his head.

            “I suggest you get officers back over to the house immediately before he has a chance to get behind the false wall and remove the dispersing device.” Sherlock advised, handing the folder back.

            Lestrade nodded and pulled out his mobile to make a call. Sherlock looked over at John, who luckily had slept through that conversation. The blanket he had been covered with before had fallen completely to the ground. Without stopping to think Sherlock crossed the room and draped it over John once more.

            He was extremely grateful that John seemed to be in a deep restful sleep despite sleeping on the sofa. Sherlock knew that the last week had been tough for his new friend and the stress of taking care of Hamish and keeping him away from any of the nastiness was causing John even more anxiety. He smiled briefly at the sleeping doctor before turning to face Lestrade once more.

            Lestrade was still chatting on his mobile so instead Sherlock was greeted with look of disbelief from Donovan. He sighed as he crossed the room to pick up his violin once more.

            “Contrary to popular belief, I am actually human Donovan, not a machine with no emotions, as you seem to think.” He said without looking at her.

            “I— ” She began before being interrupted by a small voice from the doorway.

            “Sirlock?” A sleepy Hamish inquired. The little boy had his new pajamas on and was hugging his stuffed otter closely to his chest while dragging his green blanket behind him.

            “Hamish, what’s wrong?” Sherlock asked with concern, forgetting his violin and crossing the room to the boy.

            “I heard talking and then I noticed daddy wasn’t there.” Hamish looked up at him with sleepy, but tearful eyes.

            “Daddy’s right here, he just stayed up too late and fell asleep.” Sherlock explained gesturing over to John.

            Hamish looked over to where John was sound asleep and relaxed. He looked back up at Sherlock and reached for him. Sherlock picked him up and smiled as Hamish snuggled into his robe, patting his back as the little boy sniffled slightly. After wrapping the blanket around Hamish he turned back to request Lestrade leave.

            Donovan was still staring at him, seemingly in shock, but luckily Lestrade was just hanging up.

            “Now if there is nothing else, it is quite late Lestrade.” Sherlock hinted.

            “Right,” Lestrade nodded looking at Hamish in surprise. “Sorry we woke you, buddy.”

            Hamish peaked his head out from Sherlock’s shoulder and smiled at Lestrade.

            “Those jim-jams are pretty cool, bud. I wonder where you got them.” Lestrade winked causing Hamish to giggle slightly.

            “Yes, yes, he is adorable, now don’t you have a suspect to arrest?” Sherlock frowned.

            “Of course, night Haym.” Lestrade appropriated John’s nickname for the little boy. “Sleep tight!”

            Lestrade gestured to Donovan before heading to the door. Sherlock followed them, intending to take the little boy back up to bed.

            “Sirlock will you read me a story?” Hamish asked drowsily as he climbed the steps to the upstairs room.

            “Of course.” Sherlock nodded.

 

 

 

 

            Sally, still in shock, somehow made it down to the car. Everything she had seen in the short time they had been in 221B contradicted everything she thought she knew about the freak. After seeing him with the kid that day at the Met she was sure that the stern army doctor would soon realize what a freak Sherlock was. However, that had been half a week ago and the doctor and his son was still associating with Sherlock. It made no sense. She would have sworn that Sherlock was acting but he seemed so sincere in his actions, tender even. What puzzled her more was the toys lying about in the flat. The Sherlock she thought she knew would have sneered at toys cluttering his space.

           They were halfway back to the station when she finally turned to the inspector, ready to ask her questions.

            “Sir, what on earth was that?” She asked hesitantly.

            “You know, I’ve been trying to tell you and Anderson for years that Sherlock is a good man.” Greg sighed.

            “It doesn’t make any sense sir. Sherlock is impossible to talk to let alone live with. What is wrong with the doctor and his son?” She prodded.

            “What do you mean wrong with?” Greg asked his tone full of warning.

            “I mean, wouldn’t somebody have to be just as messed up for Sherlock to find them interesting enough? Or to find Sherlock tolerable enough to live with?” She puzzled.

            “Let me get one thing perfectly clear, there is nothing wrong with John, or Hamish. I never want to hear you question that again.” Greg clipped, his hands tightening around the steering wheel and his voice becoming heated.

            “Sorry, sir.” Sally apologized.

            “I understand that you and Sherlock had a bad start at the beginning, and that you will never be friends per se.” Greg continued more mildly. “You do however need to dismiss your ideas about him being unlovable and incapable of love.”

            “I’ll try sir. He acted differently than he normally did, even sweet.” She paused thinking of Sherlock comforting the little boy. “He didn’t even deduce anything about me.”

            “Sherlock uses his deductions like a shield sometimes. It’s his defense when someone is attacking him. Not always of course, he can be quite an insensitive bastard about it. In your case, and Anderson’s, it’s used in retaliation. If you stop verbally harassing him, I’m willing to bet less of your private life will get aired to your peers.” Greg advised her.

            Sally thought this over for a time. Greg was right, the first case Sherlock had helped on several years ago had been a clash of wills and had set the tone for their relationship ever since. Now that she thought on things, Sherlock did only ever deduce damaging things about them after she or Anderson had remarked negatively about something.

            “Sir, what was that about the pajamas?” She asked curiously after a while.

            “Oh, a birthday present from Myc and me.” Greg smirked.

            “Birthday? When was his birthday?” Sally asked surprised.

            “Today. We took him to the zoo.” Greg replied still smiling.

            “We?” She raised her eyebrows, hoping he meant what she thought he meant.

            “Myc, me, John, and his sister, and yes, Sherlock.” Greg confirmed.

            “Sherlock…..at the zoo?” She questioned with a grin. “Oh I imagine that was interesting.”

            “Maybe if you can try harder at getting along with Sherlock at the next crime scene I’ll accidently leave a few pictures out on my desk.” Greg offered.

            “I’ll certainly try sir. After tonight I have a lot to think on.” She replied honestly.

 

 

 

 

 

            John moved along the bookcase, organizing Sherlock’s books carefully by subject. Ever since Sherlock had left to go check on something at Scotland Yard earlier John had been utterly bored.

            He had woken early that morning to find the flat completely silent. After searching the downstairs and not finding Sherlock anywhere, he had concluded that the detective must have gone out for some reason. John then decided to check on Hamish and was surprised to find Sherlock asleep on the bed with Hamish curled up next to him, his head resting on Sherlock’s shoulder. There were a few storybooks lying about on the floor, clearly having fallen from the bed at some point during the night. It had been so sweet that John had quickly snapped a few pictures on his mobile. Sherlock had woken, slightly disoriented, not long after.

            The rest of the morning had gone about much like the other mornings had gone. John had cooked breakfast and afterwards Sherlock had played some with Hamish.

            It had been almost lunch when Sherlock got a text from Greg. Sherlock had explained the late night visit about a case earlier, so the text now wasn’t entirely surprising. The detective had headed out; eager to find out what new information Greg’s team had come up with, leaving John and Hamish by themselves. John had played with Hamish for a while before leaving his son to play around with a few of the 3D brainteasers by himself.

            John really hadn’t known what to do with himself, having felt a bit without purpose these days. After noticing a few stacks of books on the floor he had taken it upon himself to place them back on some empty shelves, then quickly decided to arrange them in categories so that they would be easier to find. Once he finished with the bookshelf he turned to the table in between the two windows that had stacks of papers cluttering the surface and decided to do something about that as well.

            He made sure to move Sherlock’s violin carefully to the side before diving in. Sherlock had treated him last night with a bit of his playing, which had been really wonderful to fall asleep to. John hadn’t even known Sherlock had played so well until last night. He was quite gifted, really.

            John began to fall into a bit of a rhythm with the papers he was going through. He had organized the papers into stacks. One was for items he thought could be thrown out, such as random sections of newspapers and other such junk but, that he wanted Sherlock’s consent before doing so. Another pile was for research projects and experiment notes that Sherlock had made, some of them actually quite interesting. The third pile was papers that had some sort of stain where coffee, or tea had been spilt and Sherlock had not bothered to transfer the information.

            He had just finished sorting the last of the papers when he heard the downstairs door open and slow, heavy footfalls climb the stairs. John glanced towards the clock and was surprised to find it had actually gotten quite late.

            “Sherlock, is that you?” John asked.

            “Yes, John. It’s me.” He heard Sherlock wheeze from the stairwell.

            “Sherlock, is something wrong?” He stood up and walked towards the doorway just as Sherlock appeared.

            “I’m fine.” Sherlock hissed clutching his side. “Just a run in with a criminal.”

            “Sit. First aid kit?” John asked, his tone non-negotiating.

            “Under the kitchen sink.” Sherlock sighed slipping off his coat, revealing a cut on his side, crimson just starting to soak through his shirt.

            John quickly retrieved the kit and after pushing Sherlock into a chair and ordering Sherlock’s shirt off, began to clean and patch up the cut.

            “Now what’s this about a criminal? I thought you were just going into the Yard to hear something from Greg.” John asked.

            “I did, that didn’t take very long. I was right. Greg wanted me to read the man’s confession. Apparently someone helped him arrange the murder. There really wasn’t much I could do with just that information and unfortunately the man knew nothing about his benefactor. Dead end.” Sherlock hissed as John applied antiseptic.

            “Then how on earth did this happen?” John grumbled, agitated.

            “On my way back here someone from my network informed me of a warehouse that fit the clues that I had obtained from that powder in your flat.” Sherlock explained. “So naturally I went to investigate.”

            “Sherlock!” John chided.

            “It turned out to be the wrong warehouse, not the right vegetation surrounding it, which wouldn’t have mattered if I hadn’t startled the few territorial criminals that were using it as a hideout.” Sherlock finished sighing as John placed a large plaster over the cut.

            “And they gave you this I presume.” John sighed. “Next time Sherlock, do not go alone. Phone Greg or at least let me come along you great idiot.”

            “Hmm.” Sherlock commented noncommittally.

            “Sirlock, are you ok?” Hamish asked from behind him.

            “Yes, I’m quite alright. See, just a little nick.” Sherlock assured him.

            “You got a boo-boo?” Hamish asked coming forward to inspect Sherlock’s side. “Did daddy kiss it to make it better?” 

            John blushed and turned away to pack the kit back up and put it away.

            “No he didn’t. Is that essential for the healing process Dr. Hamish?” Sherlock asked the little boy seriously.

            “Uh-huh!” Hamish nodded earnestly before leaning forward and placing a kiss atop the plaster that John had placed. “There all better!” 

            “Thank you very much.” Sherlock smiled at the boy.

            “Can we watch a movie?” Hamish asked crawling into Sherlock’s lap without any invitation.

            Sherlock looked to John who sighed and nodded. He would have to continue chastising Sherlock about his recklessness later.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for this being up a few days later than I would have liked. (I feel like I'm always apologizing for that). I was working on finishing up the first chapter for a new fic I will hopefully be posting soon as well as writing this chapter. I meant to finish writing this chapter Sunday, but I was woken up that morning by a call from my sister that my parents house was flooding. Almost all of my family live in SC and if you aren't aware, there was massive flooding all over SC due to the storm systems coming off of Hurricane Joaquin. So instead of writing Sunday, I spent a lot of the day on the phone trying to get ahold of family and friends and in general just worrying myself to the point where I couldn't focus on anything. 
> 
> So sorry about the delay!  
> I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. The case Sherlock solves is loosely based on ACD's story the speckled band, which is a really interesting case. 
> 
> And lastly can I just say that you guys are awesome? Cause you are! :)


	25. An occupation for John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big thanks to my Beta mafm! 
> 
> Sorry this is so late real life problems got in the way!

           

 

 

           Sherlock fiddled with his violin and watched as John puttered about the kitchen, attempting to hide the slight limp that had shown up again. Up until this point, Sherlock hadn’t seen a trace of John’s limp from the hospital. The appearance of it now was probably owed to a lack of purpose, and to an increase in stress, Sherlock reasoned. How to get rid of it was what he had been considering all morning. He suspected a bit of adventure might do the trick, or something to take John’s mind off of things. And if John tidied anymore, Sherlock would feel compelled to pay the man a cleaning fee.

            Sherlock wasn’t exactly sure how to fix the problem yet. John finding work at a clinic once more would have been a great solution, but with John’s recent stalker issue and whispers of other things Mycroft has hinted at, it didn’t seem like a viable option any longer. 

            Sherlock looked away quickly, shifting his gaze out of the window as John turned and shuffled into the room with a fresh cup of tea. Sherlock paused in his playing as a sleek black car stopped on the road and then promptly frowned when Mycroft got out. He sighed and put his violin down carefully and waited for his brother to waltz in.

            “What’s the matter, Sherlock?” John asked from the large red chair he was now snuggled into.

            Sherlock said nothing and continued to stare at the doorway. He didn’t have long to wait, thankfully,  as his brother causally walked into the room not moments later. Hamish, who had been relatively quiet this morning, looked up from the 3D brainteaser he was trying puzzle out. He gave Mycroft a grin and a wave, which Mycroft returned, before turning his focus back to the star object in his hand.

“I don’t have time to do a case for you right now, Mycroft.” Sherlock stated with a hint of annoyance.

            “Good, because I didn’t bring you one.” Mycroft replied, nodding in John’s direction before taking a seat on the sofa.

            “Can I get you some tea?” John offered.

            “No thank you, I’m quite alright.” Mycroft politely declined.

            “Well, for what reason are we suffering your presence, dear brother?” Sherlock rumbled.

            Mycroft ignored Sherlock’s jab and instead turned his attention to John.

            “John, I wish to inquire if you are up to caring for a patient?” Mycroft asked solemnly.

            “Um, I suppose. I didn’t think it would be deemed safe enough to go looking for jobs in a hospital with recent events.” John frowned in confusion.

            “The patient I am referring to cannot go to a hospital.” Mycroft clarified.

            Ah, Sherlock understood. One of Mycroft’s minions has got himself injured. Sherlock scowled as he realized that Mycroft had found an occupation for John before he had.

            “Then I’m not sure I understand.” John admitted.

            “Because, as usual, his cryptic nature is preventing him from stating the situation in a more appropriate manner.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

            “It is a delicate matter.” Mycroft huffed. “There is an agent due back in the country tomorrow who is in need of immediate care.”

            “An agent? As in one of your agents? Wouldn’t that work be classified, or something?” John asked in surprise.

            “The usual doctor that is cleared for this sort of thing is currently out of the country himself. Your military clearance is high enough to warrant consideration, and after a few more checks you were cleared.” Mycroft explained.

            “Oh, well, of course I’ll help. What conditions, exactly will I be treating?” John inquired.

            “All I know is that he is will be in urgent need of medical care when his plane lands tomorrow.” Mycroft replied.

            “How am I supposed to know what supplies I will need? You can’t give me anything? Anything at all?” John pleaded.

            “I would give you more information if I had it. All I know is that he had a close brush with a target and was being sent back to England for urgent care. As for supplies, I assure you that you will have anything you might require.” Mycroft vowed.

            “Right. Well, I’m happy to help.” John agreed looking confident and eager.

            Sherlock turned to stare out of the window once more as John began to ask particulars about where he would be going and what things he would have access to. Leave it to Mycroft to butt in. Sherlock would have come up with something, he would have, eventually.

            He felt his mobile buzz in his pocket and pulled it out, perhaps Lestrade had a case for him. Sherlock sighed when he noted the message was not from Lestrade but someone from his network. There were a few trustworthy members around the city that he had equipped with mobiles so that he could get information as quickly as possible. He opened the message and found a picture of a warehouse. Oh! This was good! He could work with this!

            He pocketed his mobile and grabbed his coat, which had been slung over his chair carelessly last night.  After flitting about looking for his scarf he finally noticed that the conversation between John and Mycroft had ceased. Sherlock turned, scarf in hand, to find his brother and John staring at him in confusion.

            “Where are you off to, then?” John asked his brow furrowed.

            “I have another lead on a warehouse.” He replied looping his scarf about.

            “No. Sherlock.” John warned.

            “No what? I’m going to check it out.” Sherlock scoffed.

            “Not alone you aren’t! Do you not remember last night?” John questioned incredulously.

            “You got a boo-boo.” Hamish piped up helpfully.

            “That’s right. So take someone with you.” John frowned.

            “No time.” Sherlock moved towards the door.

            “Sherlock! Really?” John jumped up in exasperation. Sherlock suppressed a smirk.

            “If you are so concerned John, by all means, do come along.” Sherlock shot back.

            “Me? I can’t just go chasing after you to make sure you don’t do something stupid! Who would be here with Hamish?” John looked at him in frustration.

            “Mrs. Hudson could-” Sherlock began.

            “Mrs. Hudson went to see a movie with Mrs. Turner.” John sighed. Mycroft coughed discreetly.

            “If I may?” Mycroft interrupted.

            “What Mycroft? Are you offering to watch Hamish?” Sherlock smirked. “Don’t you have meetings to attend?”

            “My afternoon meeting was canceled; the Italians can be so fickle.” Mycroft commented dryly.  

            “Countries to take over? Governments to overthrow?” Sherlock continued.

            “Not at the present.”

            “You wouldn’t mind?” John asked Mycroft.

            “Of course not.” Mycroft assured him. “Besides I do think I will have the better end of the deal, after all I won’t be the one chasing after the insane.”

            At this John snorted and leaned down to Hamish.

            “Will you be alright with Mycroft for a little bit?” John asked his son with a smile.

            “Will he play with me?” Hamish asked, looking at Mycroft.

            Mycroft simply nodded at the request. Hamish grinned and nodded his assent to his father. John smiled back and gave Hamish a quick kiss and a hug.

            “John.” Sherlock said impatiently.

            “I’m coming! Keep your pants on, you git.” John said, grinning as he reached for his jacket.

 

 

 

 

            John rushed from the cab, frantically trying to keep up with the tall detective’s stride. He didn’t actually take notice of the building until Sherlock stooped to examine a bit of foliage.

            “This is the correct warehouse, I believe.” Sherlock remarked standing up again.

            John finally looked up at the beige building and his eyebrows rose in surprise.

            “Do you know this place?” Sherlock asked noting the change in his expression.

            “Not personally, no. Don’t you remember all of those news stories a few months back?” John looked at him. “The company that owned this place went bankrupt after the CEO went missing. It was all over the papers.”

            John watched as Sherlock looked at the building with more interest.

            “I must have deleted it. What company was this?” Sherlock asked still looking over the building.

            “Monkford Pharmaceuticals.” John answered and then quickly followed Sherlock as he set off again.

            John waited behind Sherlock as he carefully pried open the warehouse door. He sighed as Sherlock slipped into the half lit building and then quickly followed. John blinked in surprise to find the building full of large packing crates.

            “Did they ever find the man?” Sherlock asked examining one of the crates closely.

            “Hm, no, no body or anything. Just enough evidence to indicate he was dead. The company suffered for it and filed for bankruptcy not long after. They’ve been tied up in legal disputes ever since, I believe.” John thought about the few news stories he had seen since living at Baker Street.

            “Interesting.” Sherlock commented still perusing the crates.

            John tensed as he heard a noise from the other end of the building. He quickly pulled Sherlock down behind a crate and into the shadows, sshing Sherlock’s huff of annoyance.  John focused on the noise and froze when a voice started talking.

            “Where does the boss want these to go again?” A deep rough voice asked.

            “Carl, you imbecile, it’s written on the crates!” A nasally voice replied impatiently.

            “Oi! I meant these over here, they don’t have labels now, do they?” the gruff man jeered.

            “Those go to Argentina. Monkford will take it from there.” Nasally voice replied imperiously.

            John looked to Sherlock in surprise. At that moment John realized just how close he and Sherlock were huddled together, almost chest to chest. John drew a quick intake of breath and tried to put some space between them. Sherlock stilled his motions, grabbing onto his arm. John looked at the detective who was still listening to the two men intently but looking at John with large dilated eyes.

            “Come on then you Neanderthal, start with these over here.” the arrogant man called to his companion from a location uncomfortably close to where they were hiding. 

            John looked to Sherlock asking silently what they should do. Sherlock squeezed his arm and looked behind him at the stack of crates and then towards the half open door that they came through. John raised his eyebrows and then after a moment of deliberation, nodded. He watched as Sherlock moved to the side, allowing John to move up beside him.

            John tensed, waiting for Sherlock’s signal. Sherlock was listening intently as large footsteps slowly came closer. Finally Sherlock looked to him and nodded. Together they pushed forward causing the crates to topple over into madness.

            “Now John!” Sherlock grabbed his hand and turned running for the door.

            “What the bloody hell?!?!” John heard from behind them along with several undignified grunts and curses.

           

 

 

            Sherlock led them as they ran, taking as many side alleys and shortcuts that he knew of, anything to confuse anyone who might be following them. They were more than halfway back to the flat when he finally paused in an alley leaning up against the brick wall he looked over at John while he tried to catch his breath.

            “That-was- the – craziest thing- I have ever done!” John panted next to him with a manic grin.

            “Says the man who married an assassin.” Sherlock grinned back. John gave a good-natured chuckle at this before taking a few more deep breaths.

            Sherlock noticed their hands were still clasped and gently let go before looking at John hesitantly.

            “Well, shall we?” He gestured to the street.

            John blinked and looked down at their now unclasped hands and back up at Sherlock. Sherlock shifted waiting for John to say something. He had prevented John from backing away at the warehouse, but that at least he could justify was to prevent them from being found. He wouldn’t force John into close proximity with him again now, not if it made his friend uncomfortable. John finally smiled at Sherlock, and grabbed his hand once more.

            “Come on, let’s get home.” John squeezed his hand. Sherlock relaxed and grinned before causally leading them out of the alley.

            Each step of the way Sherlock’s grin seemed to get wider, especially when he noted that John had no hint of a limp.

 

 

 

            Mycroft had enjoyed his time with Hamish. The boy was very clever for his age and many of the presents Sherlock had picked out for Hamish’s birthday encouraged this. Mycroft noted the un-puzzled brainteaser Hamish had been playing with when he came in, left in pieces on the floor. True, Hamish’s speech patterns were typical of his age, but his ability to understand patterns and puzzles were far beyond his age.

            This was clear in the game that Hamish had dragged him to the floor to play. It was a simple enough concept, match tiles so that similar shapes lined up one way and similar colors lined up another. Hamish was doing very well, placing his pieces quickly and without error. It made Mycroft wonder when it would be possible to start teaching the boy how to play chess.

            Once all of the tiles were placed Hamish smiled and then after a moment scampered up the stairs. Mycroft moved to the sofa once more and waited patiently for the little boy to return. He dug his mobile out while he waited and opened a text that had arrived not to long ago. He smirked at the image he had been sent. His brother running past a CCTV camera, John right behind him, their hands clasped tightly together.

            He put the mobile away (after forwarding the photo to Gregory) and watched as Hamish rushed back into the room. Hamish crawled onto the sofa and placed a book on his lap. It was a large print version of the Hobbit, with colored pictures and maps.

            “Will you read me some?” the little boy asked, as he looked up at him hopefully.

            “But of course.” Mycroft smiled, opening the book to the bookmark and chuckling as Hamish excitedly cuddled up to his side.

 

 

           

 

           

 

            “Where on earth have you been?” Holland questioned in frustration.

            Sebastian rolled his eyes and dumped his bag in the entryway of before brushing past him intent on finding a beer.

            “Sebastian.” Holland sighed following him.

            “I was meeting with Huang about his business.” Sebastian replied grabbing a beer and a take out box before settling at the table.

            “That meeting was scheduled until two days from now! When did you even have time for it? You were meant to be collecting information to blackmail Mr. Henderson.” Holland sat across from him.

            “Oh, I did that yesterday. Huang was willing to meet early and seeing as I was going to be in his neck of the woods I figured I would kill two birds with one stone.” Sebastian explained digging into the container of rice.

            “Two birds with one stone? What else did you do today?” Holland frowned at him with narrowed eyes.

            “The hit on Lee Chen.” Sebastian replied causally, while waiting for the inevitable negative reaction from Holland.

            “You did WHAT?” Holland’s jaw dropped in astonishment.

            “I had time, so why not. Jim sent us here for two weeks to do one week’s worth of work. Honestly what did he think I was going to do, ransom all of London for John?”

            “Even so, you still have to be sure that no mistakes are made. Jim wants the job done efficiently, yes but don’t make mistakes in your haste to get back to London! As for the other issue, I think he just wanted things to cool off for a bit. How is he ever going to get his precious game with the Holmes brothers if they are running around dealing with your messes.” Holland ranted.

            “They were not messes!” Sebastian defended his hand clenched.

            “What would you call them? They definitely weren’t planned! Why was there a need to kill four men so quickly?” Holland shot back.

            “Because those two friends were the reason he got transferred. They bullied him into it! Did it specifically when I wasn’t around to defend him. Not a trace as to where he had been transferred.” Sebastian growled.

            “It’s not your fault that John got shot.” Holland remarked. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

            “If I had known he was in their unit I wouldn’t have helped Jim arrange that kidnapping with the Taliban. John never said that he was interested in doing that sort of thing, I asked him once. Thought he might want to go out to the field with me.” Sebastian growled. “It was their fault.”

            “Christ, you don’t blame me do you? I tried to get you a message as soon as I could!” Holland looked at him in shock.

            “No, you are the reason John didn’t get hurt worse. I know that. It was the others. I’m sure they didn’t even run it by John when they requested him to transfer to their unit.”

            “Okay fine, it was their fault. But why the other two?” Holland sighed.

            “Because they were rats who made John’s life a living hell. They are just as much to blame.” Sebastian slammed his fist down in anger.

            Holland lapsed into silence at this staring at him as he attacked his meal viciously. Holland had always doubted his relationship with John, he was well aware of that. Sebastian was confident in it however. John was brave and honest and not afraid of danger. He knew it had been a few years since their time in Afghanistan together but it didn’t matter. Sebastian was sure when John figured out who was behind everything he would seek Sebastian out.

            “So, do I want to know why there is a pool of blood in the back of the Mercedes?” Holland asked wearily after a while.

            Sebastian smirked thinking of the present he dropped off for the eldest Holmes brother.

            “One of Iceman’s agents needed a talking to.” Moran grinned.

            “Oh Christ! What did you do with him?” Holland asked in frustration.

            “Well we had our….talk and then I dumped him where I knew Iceman would find him. Stupid bastard needs to stop sending agents to tail me. The next one is going to get a shot right to the head.” Moran grumbled.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So again sorry this took forever to get up. My Beta and I were both busy and then sick sort of at the same time and just real life is annoying lol. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter :) It was fun to write.
> 
> Did you like the peak into Sebastian's side??


	26. A day out of the apartment and a night in.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little plot a little fluff. ....ok a lot of fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited by my wonderful Beta mafm. 
> 
> I am so sorry for how long this took me to update. I had some personal things pop up one after another that occupied my time for a few weeks.  
> I hope you enjoy!!

 

       

           John looked out of his window as the car that was sent for him pulled up to a large iron gate. The sun was just beginning to rise, but there was enough light for John to make out a large, stately looking building some ways past the gate. The car that had picked him up that morning had driven a short way outside of London before making several turns onto unmarked country roads. Wherever he now was, he supposed the injured agent, and probably Mycroft, were in the imposing building before him.

            The driver must have had a key or remote of some sort, because the car didn’t pause for long before the gate began to open inwards. The car drove forward slowly making its way up the drive. John looked back and noted the gate closing behind them. When he looked back towards the building he saw Mycroft politely waiting in front of a large door. The car finally stopped and John quickly got out, stretching a bit as he did so.

            “Good morning, Mycroft.” John greeted.

            “Good morning, Dr. Watson.” Mycroft nodded to him. “If you would follow me, I will show you to your patient.”

            John fell into step beside Mycroft, his eyebrows raising in surprise at the interior of the building. He had expected to find that the inside of the old building to have been remade into something plain and clinical, as would be befitting a government building. Instead he was greeted with beautiful paintings and woodwork that matched the exterior to a tee.

            “Where are we, exactly?” John asked hesitantly.

            “This was the home of my great uncle. He left it to me in his will when he passed away some time ago. I had no use for another house of this size so I decided to use it as a home base for some of my work. It has acted as a safe house, makeshift hospital, and operations base. Whatever is needed at the present moment.” Mycroft explained to him.

            _No use for another house of this size?_ John thought. Just how many other large mansions does Mycroft own?

            John followed Mycroft into a separate wing of the house, noticing clearly some of changes and additions that had been made to the old mansion. Security cameras looked on from a few corners and several of the doors had electronic keypads. He stopped politely at Mycroft’s side when the man paused in front of the second door he came to. After waiting for Mycroft to type in a five digit passcode the door opened and Mycroft waved him through.

            John looked about at the large room. The room had been modified slightly to accommodate several medical machines and a large hospital bed on which his patient was currently placed.

            He walked forward and got a good look at the man. The agent was about his own age, maybe a few years younger, with short brown hair, and looked positively wrecked. John straightened and stepped forward to begin his assessment. This was going to be a long day.

 

 

 

 

 

            Sherlock huffed as he wrestled Hamish out of his pajamas and into some proper clothes. John had bustled off absurdly early to go help his pompous older brother leaving John to look after Hamish for the day. It really should be quite simple; he had done it for a few days before John was found so surely he should be able to do so now. Sherlock finally pulled Hamish’s soft blue jumper into place and quickly picked up the dirtied pajamas, intent on depositing them in the downstairs hamper.

            Once he was downstairs and had divested himself of the soiled clothes he turned to find Hamish staring up at him expectantly. He had given the child breakfast and saw to it that he had brushed his teeth and changed clothes, what had he missed?

            “Yes, Hamish?” Sherlock asked the child hesitantly.

            “Can we do an esperiment?” The little boy looked up at him hopefully.

            Sherlock smiled broadly and nodded, causing Hamish to squeal in delight. He watched with fondness as the little boy scampered off to get his pint sized-lab coat. That was actually quite a relief. Sherlock had been concerned he had forgotten something important with the way Hamish had been following him. Sherlock turned and cleared off the table to give them some space to work with.

            When Hamish returned, the little boy had donned his little white coat, buttoned it up (wrongly) and was clutching the science kit Mrs. Hudson had given him for his birthday. 

            “Can we do this one??” Hamish begged pointing to one of the pages in the book.

            “Yes, now stay still for just a moment.” Sherlock chuckled as he fixed the buttons.

 

 

            Two hours later Sherlock looked on in amusement as Hamish played about with the goo they had created. Hamish, who had insisted on sitting in Sherlock’s lap, was giggling in delight as he squished the blue substance about with his fingers. He watched as the boy picked up a piece of the yellow goo and squashed it together with the blue.

            “Look Sirlock!!! Green!!!” Hamish said in excitement.

            “Oh look at you two!!” Sherlock looked up to find Mrs. Hudson holding her phone up and taking a few pictures.

            “Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock scowled.

            “Oh Sherlock won’t you smile again? Just once more, please?” The old woman beseeched him.

            “May I help you with something?” Sherlock asked imperiously, still scowling at her.

            “I just popped up to see what all the giggling was about. I thought I might invite you two down to lunch as well seeing as John is not here to look after you.” Mrs. Hudson informed him.

            “We’re doin’ a science esperiment.” Hamish explained proudly.

            “Experiment.” Sherlock corrected with a slight smile. “Although I’m not sure I would classify it as science.”

            “Oh Sherlock, don’t ruin his fun.” Mrs. Hudson scolded him.

            Sherlock rolled his eyes. The book full of children’s science experiments, if you could even call them that, was ridiculous. He had only conceded this once to doing it because Hamish was so excited about it. Next time they did one of them Sherlock was going tweak it a bit so Hamish might actually get more out of it.

            “Well why don’t you loves clean up a bit and then come downstairs. I have some sandwiches and chips all ready for you.” Mrs. Hudson smiled at Hamish.

            “An cinnamon biscuits???” Hamish asked hopefully.

            “You’re a bad influence, Sherlock.” Mrs. Hudson chastised before turning to leave the room.

            “Well, are there biscuits?” Sherlock questioned with a frown as she disappeared downstairs.

            “Clean up and you’ll find out.” The old lady called back.

            Sherlock sent the little boy off to the bathroom to wash his hands off while he tidied up the table a bit. He stopped briefly when he felt his mobile buzz in his pocket. He quickly pulled it out and answered.

            “Sherlock Holmes.” He said briefly.

            “ _Hey, Sherlock, it’s Molly.”_ Molly announced brightly.

            “I am aware of what your voice sounds like.” Sherlock replied dryly. “What can I help you with?”

            “ _Well, actually I was looking for John. I tried calling his mobile but it doesn’t seem to be on.”_ Molly clarified.

            “What do you need with John?” Sherlock questioned, frowning heavily.

            “ _Oh well, I have my nephew again today while my sister deals with a few things, and I was wondering if John would like to meet us at the park with Hamish again.”_

            “John is not here for the day. My brother abducted him, so John could patch up one of his clumsy agents.” Sherlock explained.

            “ _Oh, well, I guess maybe another time.”_ Molly replied.

            “Which park? I’ll bring Hamish after we eat lunch.” Sherlock asked.

            “ _You will bring him?”_ Molly questioned in astonishment.

            “Well since I am watching him for the day who else would bring him?” Sherlock shot back in annoyance.

            “ _Right, well ok…”_ Molly stuttered out. “ _Well we’ll see you after lunch then at the park on Maple St. It’s just around the corner from you.”_

            “Of course.” Sherlock agreed before ringing off.

           

 

 

 

            “Dr. Watson.” Mycroft’s voice shook him out of his trance.

            John looked up from where he had just finished stitching up the last of the long knife wounds his patient had been given and found Mycroft standing off to the side with a tray of food.

            “Before you continue, perhaps a break for lunch might be in order.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

            “Cheers. That would be nice.” John replied. He carefully cut loose the needle he had been using and tossed a few bits of trash away before standing up.

            His back cracked painfully has he stood causing him to pause. _How long had he been hunched over?_ he wondered looking at his watch. His eyebrows rose in surprise when he noted that it had been a good two hours since he had first settled in to stitch up the cuts.

            When John had first got to work, he had taken his time to thoroughly assess the injuries and then rigorously clean all of the open wounds before setting any broken bones he found. Once the bones were set, he started on stitching up the long gashes in the man’s chest.

            “How is the patient?” Mycroft inquired softly as John settled beside him to eat.

            “Well, his left arm was quite something. I found eight broken bones there, five in his hand alone. It’s going to take effort for him to get it back into 100% working order again, but it’s possible. As for the cuts, they were cleanly made, but fairly deep. I used a smaller stitch in hopes that it would provide less scarring for him. It took longer, but I think it will be worth it.” John commented before taking a bite of the pasta dish that Mycroft had brought him.

            “What’s left to look over?” Mycroft queried.

            “Well, I’m going to apply an outer coating of medication to those incisions I just finished sewing up, and then wrap his torso tightly. He has two broken ribs and three fractured ones, so the wrapping will help to immobilize the area until they heal. After that, I’ll treat the burns on his arm and set his foot.” John explained calmly eating his meal.

            “Is there anything else we should know for his recovery?” Mycroft asked.

            “I’ll be leaving a list of instructions.” John said, simply not wishing to explain everything right then.

            “Good.” Mycroft nodded drinking a bit of his tea.

            “I will say this, you might want to arrange for a psychiatrist.” John paused. “It is wise to offer or require any agent to talk to a therapist after being tortured, no matter how seasoned the agent is.”

            Mycroft stilled and turned to him with a cool stare.

            “Tortured, Dr. Watson? What makes you say that?” the man asked.

            “I know these types of injuries Mycroft; I’ve treated them before. Hell, I’ve dealt with similar ones myself. The ligature marks on the wrists and ankles were a dead give away.” John snorted. “I don’t need the details of whatever mission he was just on to know how he got the injuries. Just offer him the option of counseling is all I am advising.”

            To this, Mycroft nodded and they lapsed into silence for awhile.

            “Would you like a moment to check in with my brother? See how Hamish is?” Mycroft asked in a lighter tone.

            “No, I trust your brother. I’m sure Hamish and he are having a wonderful day.” John replied, wondering idly what the two were getting up to.

            “If you’re sure.” Mycroft remarked. “Is there anything else you might need in treating Agent McDonald?”

            John raised his eyebrows. After 5 hours of work on the man, he finally gets a name to the face.

            “When I have everything treated, I would like to try to wake him in order to gauge his pain level on the current dosage I have him on, as well as ask him a few other questions about preferences in medication. Having a few familiar faces about would be less distressing for him as he wakes.” John replied looking at his sleeping patient.

            “I’ll see to it.” Mycroft nodded.

 

 

            “So Sherlock, any cases going on at the moment?” Molly asked after awhile.

            They had been at the park for a little while now, and the two boys were happily playing on the jungle gym. Sherlock and Molly were seated on a bench and had been chatting off and on.

            “Hm. Yes, I think.” Sherlock replied watching as Hamish ran over to the swing sets.

            “You think?” Molly quirked an eyebrow at him.

            “Well technically it ties into John’s case but it seems to be separate. Lestrade is looking into some leads and I have a few feelers out.” Sherlock replied. He had spent the better part of the night researching Monkford Pharmaceuticals but still needed a few key details to be sure of his theory.

            “Oh, well good luck with it!” She replied cheerily.

            “I see you have a date tonight.” Sherlock commented.

            “What gave it away?” Molly trembled out.

            Sherlock rolled his eyes and huffed.

            “Right, obvious to you I guess.” Molly chuckled before explaining. “He works in the IT department for St. Barts. He’s new, we met a few days ago when he came in to upgrade our computer software.”

            “Well, that is…” Sherlock considered what he should say. What would John say he thought briefly before finishing. “Nice. I hope it goes well.”

            “Thanks.” She smiled at him warmly before looking at the sky and frowning.

            Sherlock followed her gaze and saw dark clouds over the distant buildings.

            “Looks like we might have to cut this play date a bit short.” Molly commented, as a wave of distant thunder rumbled towards them.

            Sherlock stood up and ignored Molly’s questioning look as he quickly walked towards Hamish. Hamish had stopped midswing and was currently looking up at the sky in fear.

            “Hamish.” Sherlock called to him as he drew closer not wishing to startle the boy.

            Hamish looked at him and immediately hopped off of the seat and began to run towards him. Sherlock caught him and drew him to his chest.

            “It’s alright Hamish. It will be alright. Time for us to head home anyway.” Sherlock turned to find Molly and her nephew close by.

            “Is he alright? Did he fall?” Ben asked him with concern.

            “No, he just doesn’t like thunderstorms. We best be off before it hits.” Sherlock explained. Molly grimaced in sympathy.

            Sherlock nodded to her before turning and quickly making his way back to 221 B. Luckily, it didn’t actually start pouring rainuntil they were safely in the flat. He sat with Hamish and tried to comfort him as another wave of thunder rumbled past. He tried desperately to think of things to help Hamish and finally came upon a plan. With Hamish in his arms he set to work.

 

 

 

            John was tired and worried about his son as the rain beat down upon the car. The day had been long and the drive back to London seemed longer than it had this morning. Agent McDonald was all patched up and on his way back to full health. John had surprisingly liked the man when he had woken from his drugged state. McDonald was gracious and cheeky even in obvious pain. He told Mycroft that someone would need to check the bandages in a few days, whether that be him or their usual doctor.

            He sighed in relief as the car stopped in front of Sherlock’s flat and quickly got out and into the entryway before he was too soaked. He shut the door with a final thud before shedding his wet coat. John draped it over his arm before hurrying up the stairs. He winced as thunder shook the building as he finally reached the door to Sherlock’s flat.

            John quickly opened the door and looked about for Hamish knowing full well the last bout of thunder couldn’t have helped his son’s fears. Once the door was fully opened he paused for a moment in shock at the sight before him. He knew that Sherlock would be doing whatever he could for his frightened son but he wasn’t quite expecting the spectacle that was in front of him.

            In front of him was what seemed to be every pillow, blanket and spare bit of fabric the flat contained. Sherlock had created some sort of massive fort-nest in the center of the room. The heavy curtains were drawn and a few pillows seemed to be… taped? John looked again, yes duck taped to the window in front of the curtains. There were a few sheets draped about in such a way as to provide a tent-like covering for the nest of pillows, seat cushions and quilts piled on the floor. Sherlock sat nestled in the middle with Hamish in his lap. They were both facing a laptop that was placed on top of the coffee table, which had been included in fort’s drapings. Hamish was cuddled his stuffed otter and penguin while he reclined on Sherlock’s chest as he watched the laptop screen with a smile.

            “Well this is a sight.” John finally said when he found his voice. Sherlock looked up at him and offered a sheepish grin.

            “Daddy!!” Hamish shouted reaching for him, to content and secure in his nest to want to leave it.

            John hung his coat while he slipped off his shoes and crawled into the makeshift fort. He settled in beside Sherlock and chuckled as Hamish used the opportunity to sprawl across both of them.

            “I guess I shouldn’t have been so worried about the storm after all.” John smiled at Sherlock.

            Sherlock shrugged and began to look everywhere except John.

            “What, uh, brought this about?” John asked gesturing to the tent creation.

            “Well, we got left the park just as the clouds were rolling in and by the time we were back here it had begun to rain. I tried to think of some way to provide comfort and the feeling of security since you were not here.” Sherlock answered still resolutely not looking at John.

            “I never thought to make a fort for him. Figures you would find the most brilliant solution.” John smiled as Sherlock finally looked at him in surprise. “What made you think to make a fort?”

            “Well…I ….” Sherlock hesitated his cheeks flaring with color.

            “Whatever it is it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” John encouraged patting Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock sighed and finally stumbled out.

            “WhenIwasyoungerIusedtobuildfortsandpretendtheyweremypirateships.” Sherlock burst out in a rush.

            “Once more but a bit slower this time?” John smiled. 

            “When I was little, I liked to play p-” at this point Sherlock coughed rather pointedly obscuring the last bit of his sentence.

            “What was that??” John poked his rib.

            “Pirates.” Sherlock said quietly looking down at Hamish’s head.

            “Really?” John asked smiling.

            “Yes.” Sherlock sighed. “I used to make forts and pretend they were my ships. I would hide in them when Mycroft or the nanny would come looking for me.”

            “I used to hide from my sister by climbing trees. I climbed so many I started to pretend I was climbing mountains.” John confessed. Sherlock smiled and his shoulders sagged in relief.

            “Yes, well I remember feeling safe and protected whenever I would hide in them. I thought it might help Hamish.” Sherlock explained looking down at the boy in question with a smile.

            “Clever. Although I do have one question.” John stated before asking, “What’s with the pillows taped over the windows?”

            “Oh, well I thought that the extra padding might dull a bit of the sound since the window’s are the weakest point of the wall.” Sherlock shrugged.

            “So you taped them to the window.” John chuckled. “Clever.”

            They both turned their attentions to the movie that Hamish was so engrossed in. John smiled when he found it was The Lion King. Hamish began to giggle at as the characters began to sing a song causing both Sherlock and John to look down and smile.

            Neither one noted the footsteps on the staircase or the pause at the doorway, too captivated by watching Hamish’s enjoyment.

            “Oh boys! How adorable you look!!” Mrs. Hudson finally broke her silence.

            John and Sherlock looked up to find the old lady staring at them with tremendous fondness. She had a tray of mugs balanced on one hip and her camera snapping photos in the other.

            “Mrs. Hudson!!!!” Sherlock exclaimed in annoyance. John just took one look at Sherlock’s outraged expression and burst out laughing, leaning heavily against Sherlock.

            “Oh hush dear, or I won’t give you your hot chocolate.” Mrs. Hudson snapped one more picture with a smile causing Sherlock to huff and mutter about dotty old ladies taking pictures all the time.

            She passed out the hot chocolate and gave John a wink before turning to leave causing him to chuckle again. He would have to go see if he can get copies of them later, preferably when Sherlock wasn’t around.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again hope you all enjoy!!
> 
> I don't anticipate there being another big gap between updates but you never know with life huh? I will say there should be at least 2 more updates before the new year but I'm hoping to get 3 or 4 out. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!!! Thanks for sticking with me this far! If you want to find me on tumblr I can be found
> 
>  
> 
> [here](http://faroreaswind.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> I post updates on a few of my fics there, and if I anticipate another gap in updates like this past one I'll probably post about it.


	27. I know you don't feel this way.....or do you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thanks to my beta mafm who constantly corrects my poor grammar and always gives a great advice on things when I'm panicking. 
> 
> also : I AM SOOOOOOOO SORRY THAT I BASICALLY WENT MIA FOR A WHILE!!!!!

           

           

           “You guys be good today.” John called as he trotted downstairs to join Sherlock and Hamish.

            Sherlock sat drinking his tea with Hamish as the little boy messily ate his cereal. John came by in a rush, setting his empty mug down on the counter before turning and eyeing Sherlock once more.

            “You’re sure.” John asked seriously.

            “Yes, John,” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I’d hurry downstairs before Mycroft’s cronies becomes too impatient.”

            “Right.” John snorted, “Well, I shouldn’t be as long today as I was yesterday.”

            Sherlock merely hummed at this and returned to watching Hamish. Sherlock startled slightly at a touch on his shoulder. Before he could turn, he felt a light pressure, and then something soft and warm making contact with the top of his forehead before John had moved on. Stunned, Sherlock watched as John kissed Hamish quickly in the same manner before disappearing downstairs.

            He was quite sure it was just a reflex action. What else could it be? John was his friend, nothing more. Why would he be interested in Sherlock, the arrogant pushy bachelor, when John could have anyone? Perhaps it was only meant platonically. That had to be it, he decided. Years of leaving a departing kiss on his sister’s forehead before he left for work just carried over. John clearly thought of Sherlock in the same vein, like a brother, or perhaps an extremely close friend. After a few more moments of brooding, Sherlock realized just how much he wished it were otherwise. If Sherlock was honest with himself, he had been interested in John as more than a client with a unique and interesting case for a while now.

            Sherlock was not quite sure how long he sat staring after John, but by the time he came back to himself and looked to Hamish, he found the little boy to be gone. He quickly whirled around and found Hamish playing with his toy cars quietly. Sherlock sighed in relief and moved to clear Hamish’s breakfast dishes, his mind wandering back to John. Surely it was simply an accident, his mind repeated for him. John’s parting peck on the forehead _must_ have just been a reflex of some sort.

            Sherlock was startled from his ponderings by his buzzing mobile and, thankful to have something else to focus on, he quickly answered.

            “Sherlock Holmes.” He said calmly.

            _“Sherlock, I have Mrs. Monkford and her insurance representative coming in today as you requested. Would you like to be present for the interviews?”_ Lestrade’s hurried voice informed him.

            “Yes, I’ll be right there.” Sherlock agreed excitedly before ringing off.

            He turned and rushed into the living room only to come to a screeching halt. Hamish looked up at him, startled by Sherlock’s sudden entrance. Sherlock thought for a moment before moving forward and crouching down to Hamish’s level.

            “Would you like to go see Greg today?” Sherlock asked the little boy.

            Hamish’s face lit up and the little boy bounced up into Sherlock’s arms.

            “Uncle Greg! Uncle Greg!” Hamish shouted excitedly.

            Sherlock hugged Hamish, curious as to when Lestrade had become ‘Uncle Greg’. Well at least Hamish seemed to be on board with today’s plan.

 

 

            “How are you feeling today Mr. McDonald?” John asked settling in a chair beside the injured man.

            “Please, just call me Grant.” The man tiredly replied.

            “Aright, but then I must insist on you calling me John.” John smiled.

            “Well John, I could be better, but I can honestly say I’ve had worse.” Grant chuckled slightly before grimacing.

           “Probably best not to do much laughing until your ribs are healed.” John raised his eyebrows. “How are the pain meds working? I can always give you something a bit stronger”

           “No no, I would much rather deal with a slight discomfort than resort to opiate-based pain medications.” Grant shook his head slightly.

           “I understand entirely. Sometimes extra pain is worth not having to relive nightmares made worse by a drug-induced haze.” John nodded knowingly. “There are a few stronger pain meds that we can bump you up to without such effects.”

           “I wouldn’t object to that, then.” Grant smiled gratefully.  

           John stood and returned to the door, scribbling on a slip of paper the name of the medicine Grant required. He opened the door and passed it to one of his escorts with a hurried explanation. Once the man had disappeared, John closed the door once more and returned to Grant’s side, slipping on some fresh gloves as he went. He lifted the bandage and inspected the gashes he had closed up, searching for any signs of infection setting in.

           “You seem to have popped a few stitches in your sleep.” John said inspecting the damage carefully.

           “Thought I felt something pop last night.” Grant replied.

           “Hmm.” John hummed still focused on the cut. “It’s not bad, thankfully, but I’ll have to put new ones in. This particular cut is too deep to leave as is. I’ll also have to use a different technique to ensure the reopening doesn’t happen again, which means you’ll likely have a more noticeable scar.”

           “That’s alright, women love battle scars don’t they?” Grant returned cheekily.

           “I wouldn’t know; my wife always seemed rather indifferent to mine.” John smiled at Grant’s positive outlook.

           “You just gotta find the right one, mate.” Grant winked as John collected his supplies. “Had this one bird go nuts over a scar once, didn’t have the heart to tell her it was from my appendix removal.”

           John sat back and laughed heartily before returning to his task. He began to clean the wound again, apologizing to Grant for the discomfort.

           “I’m sorry about what happened to your wife. Tell me about her?” Grant grimaced at the antiseptic being applied.

           John ignored the fact that Grant seemed to know a bit about John’s past. It was rather unsurprising seeing as this man worked for Mycroft.

           “She was interesting to say the least. I fell pretty hard for her right off the bat. She had a wonderful habit of knowing what I needed before I did. I think we could have been happy in another life.” John paused trying to find the words to explain his lack of emotion for her now. “I guess I fell out of love with her just as quickly. She broke the trust we had and did some things that were pretty unforgivable, not that she saw it that way, of course.”

           “Trust is hard to rebuild once it’s broken, it’s ruined more than one of my own relationships.” Grant commented.

           “It is. I have her to thank for some of the worst moments in my life. Still, despite our problems I’ll be grateful that she gave me my son. He was the one redeeming aspect of our relationship.” John replied, threading the needle.

           “I’ve always wanted to start a family. Just haven’t met the right woman, or had enough time to get to it really.” Grant confessed.

           “I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. I never thought I’d have kids when I was discharged from the service and yet here I am with a four year old.” John smiled at him.

           “Tell me about your son.” McDonald asked relaxing a bit as John applied a numbing agent.

           “Hamish is the sweetest, most loving, four year old you could ever meet. He’s a bit shy to strangers, but once he accepts you you’re pretty much in for life. Like most children his age, he is extremely curious about the world. He just had his birthday actually, we took him to the zoo.” John smiled.

           “We?” Grant perked up at the implication.

           “Oh well, my sister came with us,” John paused wondering how to word the next bit. “As did a few others.”

           “Uh-Huh.” Grant prompted smiling slightly. John rolled his eyes before giving in, this man worked for Mycroft so he’d probably find out eventually anyway.

           “Mycroft and his husband were kind enough to join us, as did Mycroft’s brother.” John replied eyeing Grant carefully.

           “The Iceman????” Grant grinned at the revelation. “I knew he was a big softy deep down.”

           John chuckled and continued on with his work.

           “I haven’t talked to his brother much, only met him a few times.” Grant continued.

           “He is a very interesting individual.” John replied with a fond smile.

           “He covers up his loneliness with arrogance and disdain, if you ask me.” Grant insightfully replied.

           “An apt observation I would say. I can certainly see him doing that in the past.” John nodded in assent.

           “Oh but not so much anymore, eh?” Grant gave him a knowing smile.

           “Well, Hamish has certainly taken a shine to him.” John hedged and continued on with his work. He vehemently didn’t want to think on his actions this morning and what they might have cost him.

           “Well, I guess I’ll have to come up with new nicknames for the Iceman and Detective Lonelypants.” Grant commented thoughtfully.

           “Detective Lonelypants?” John looked at him curiously.

           “Eh, well, I thought it fit better than the other nickname some of the guys came up with.” Grant shrugged slightly. “I mean I don’t know a lot about the man, but I know he ain’t no virgin.”

           “Fair enough.” John snorted before changing the subject. “How did you wind up in Mycroft’s secret spy service?”

           “Started off in special forces. Apparently did some things that impressed the man himself along the way. He approached me when I opted out of another tour. He appreciated my role in several of the missions I had been on and was impressed by the fact that I was multilingual.” Grant explained. “Never really looked back to be honest. Mycroft is tough boss but a generous one.”

           “What other languages do you speak?” John asked finishing up the last stitch.

           “French, Russian, and Chinese.” Grant replied. “My mother was French and I learned the other two in school. Russian’s come in handy quite a bit in the past but don’t use it as much now to be honest. Knowing Chinese only came in handy quite recently. What about you?”

           “I’m fairly sure my French instructor only gave me a pass so she didn’t have to see me again the following term.” John chuckled while placing fresh bandages over Grant’s wounds. “I did manage to pick up a good bit of Pashto while in Afghanistan. Other than that I’m afraid I’m stuck to the Queen’s English.”

           “Ha! Well that’s alright, not everyone can patch men up like you do, Doc.” Grant grinned. “I tell you, if that old fart who usually patches us up were as friendly as you, I might actually want to follow his instructions.”

           “Well I’m sure you’ll see me a at least one more time. Mycroft doesn’t appear to be in any hurry to drag the usual physician back from his holiday.” John smiled and stood to clean up his supplies.  

           “That’s fine by me. We’ve been requesting that Mycroft retire that old codger for a couple of years now.” Grant sighed watching John tiredly.

           “Right well, at the risk of sounding like the old codger, please get as much rest as you can, take your meds when you’re supposed to, and if the new pain medication doesn’t work or you react badly to it, have them contact me.” John smiled at his patient.

           “Sir, yes sir.” Grant grinned.

 

 

           “Lestrade I’ve solved it for you. The husband and wife were in on the scam togeth-” Sherlock stopped midsentence as he came face to face with an empty office.

           He spotted Hamish’s bag on a chair and a few of his toys on the floor but no sign of either him or Lestrade. Sherlock frowned and turned only to find Sally blocking his path. He raised his eyebrows in question and waited for some scathing remark.

           “The Inspector said something about getting Hamish some ice cream at the vendor across the street.” She informed him with a tilt of her head before asking, “So how did the Monkfords pull it off? And where is Mr. Monkford if not dead?”

           Sherlock studied her face for a few moments intently before moving back into Lestrade’s office.

           “I’d rather wait for Lestrade to get back. I don’t want to have to explain things twice.” He said simply fully expecting her continue to badger him.

           Sherlock sat down at Lestrade’s desk to wait and scowled at the screensaver Lestrade had elected to use. Photo after photo appeared on the screen each staying for a few moments before promptly being replaced. Of course it wasn’t actually that Greg had decided to use photos but rather which photos he had employed that irked Sherlock. A large portion of them seemed to be from Hamish’s birthday with a few others thrown in. He recognized the ones that had to have been taken by Mrs. Hudson, she must be secretly sending the photos out, traitorously. Sherlock sighed and continued to watch the barrage of photos, scowling further when a photo popped up that he hadn’t been aware had been taken. After seeing one of John, Hamish, and him in the fort yesterday he looked away in annoyance. The happy scenes in the photos were clearly mocking him now. Now that he realized what he wanted and what he was most unlikely to get.

           It was then that he realized Sally hadn’t continued to pester him or left the office. She had situated herself in a chair with a case file, prepared to wait for Sherlock’s explanation. That was…unexpected.

           “Sirlock!!” Hamish called happily. Sherlock smiled and watched the door in anticipation.

           The little boy rounded the doorway carrying two ice cream pops, one of them halfway gone. Hamish didn’t stop at the door, once he spotted Sherlock behind Lestrade’s desk he catapulted himself across the room and clambered into Sherlock’s lap.

           “We broughts you ice cream!!!!” Hamish chattered excitedly shoving one of the ice cream pops in his face.

           “I can see that-” Sherlock stopped and studied the rainbow concoction. “This is ice cream?”

           “Uh-huh!” Hamish replied and resumed devouring his own ice cream pop, the ice cream dripping down his chin.

           “What flavor is it?” Sherlock asked curiously.

           “Rainbow!!!!” Hamish explained wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

           “Cotton candy I believe.” Came a reply from the doorway

           Sherlock looked up to find Lestrade standing, munching on his own ice cream pop and holding a second in his other hand. Lestrade smiled and turned to Sally offering her the spare pop. Sally looked a bit surprised but accepted the treat anyway.

           “So, what do you have for me?” Lestrade pulled his attention back to the issue at hand.

           Sherlock adjusted Hamish in his lap and gave his ice cream a hesitant lick before responding.

           “It’s connected.” Sherlock paused “To that case a few days ago, the one with the stepfather murdering his stepdaughter.”

           “How?” Lestrade asked incredulous.

           “Someone helped them plan it.” Sherlock stated before launching into his full explanation.

 

 

 

           John puttered about making dinner, waiting for Sherlock and Hamish to get home. John had gotten back to the flat a little after 4:00 only to find it empty. A quick text to Sherlock revealed the two had gone off to Scotland Yard for a bit, but would be home soon. John had taken a quick shower and then promptly set about making dinner in an attempt to distract himself. It really wasn’t working well at all, however. Looking over Grant’s injuries once more had allowed him to forget for a period of time but now that he was alone once more he began to think back to this morning when he quite possibly might have ruined a great friendship on a brash impulse. He had given in to his silly compulsion this morning in kissing Sherlock’s head goodbye. Molly had told him Sherlock didn’t do relationships, why would he be any different with John? And if Sherlock did do relationships what would he want with John? A middle-aged man with a four year old, PTSD, and psychopathic killer as a stalker.

           He tensed when he heard the door downstairs open then quickly smiled as the hurried steps of little feet pounded up the stairs.

           “Daddy!!!” Hamish called.

           John turned just in time to catch the little boy as he collided with his legs.

           “Hello!! Did we have fun today?” John asked the grinning boy who had firmly attached himself to John’s left leg.

           “Uh-huh!!! Uncle Greg got us ice cream!” Hamish announced happily.

           “I can see that.” John chuckled eyeing the dried multicolored smears on Hamish’s chubby cheeks. “Why don’t you go wash up for dinner?”

           As Hamish spirited down the hallway John looked up to find Sherlock hovering in the doorway.

           “Not to worry, the ice cream was a few hours ago now so he should have plenty of room for a proper supper.” Sherlock assured him.

           “That’s fine.” John smiled awkwardly. “Uh, Uncle Greg?”

           “That is entirely Hamish I believe. Just started saying it today. You should have seen Lestrade’s face when Hamish greeted him that way.” Sherlock chuckled.

           “I’ll bet.” John could just imagine it, Greg’s shock, then subsequent pleasure.

            Sherlock hovered a few more moments before making to leave the room entirely. John seized his chance and stepped forward.

           “Listen, I uh, I want to apologize about this morning.” John looked down quickly. “Molly said you don’t do relationships and I respect that. I shouldn’t have blatantly crossed that boundary on a selfish whim. I promise it won’t happen again.”

 

 

           Sherlock’s heart had sunk when John had started apologizing. He knew it had been to good to be true. He waited for the inevitable as John looked away, clearly not wanting to look at Sherlock’s face when he let him down. He looked towards the ceiling himself as a reminder that it didn’t matter. It didn’t. John would still be his friend, hopefully, and that would be fine.

           John continued, and Sherlock almost gasped in shock as John actually apologized. John didn’t write it off as just a reflex at all; instead he apologized believing that Sherlock wasn’t interested. If Sherlock wasn’t so concerned about making the wrong move right now he would leap for joy. He realized suddenly that John had stopped talking and was simply staring at Sherlock now, presumably waiting for the rejection that Sherlock had been expecting just moments ago.

           “What if I wanted it to?” Sherlock said suddenly before he could stop himself He saw confusion, quickly followed by relief, and then hope flash across John’s face.

           “But Molly said-” John began still in doubt.

           “Was once true.” Sherlock interrupted. “Now however, I find that is not the case.”

           John was silent again. Clearly trying to process things.

           “This morning though, you stiffened up.” John finally pointed out.

           “You caught me off guard this morning, that’s true. Don’t mistake it for disinterest though.” Sherlock stepped towards John hesitantly. “It takes me a while to process my feelings so by the time I had realized them you were gone.”

           John nodded, fidgeting slightly.

           “So you are interested in relationships?” John asked not looking at him.

           “With you? Yes.” Sherlock answered definitively smiling as John broke out into a pleased grin.

           John stepped forward and wrapped Sherlock into a tight hug. Sherlock, slightly awkward at first, soon relaxed into it setting his chin atop John’s head.

           “I would like to make one request, though.” Sherlock said into John’s hair.

           “Yes?” John asked, his body going rigid in anticipation.

           “I would like to take it slow, it’s been quite a long time since I did this.” Sherlock elaborated, rubbing circles in John’s shoulder as encouragement.

           “Christ, that sounds perfect.” John relaxed and moved back to look at him with a fond smile. “Haven’t exactly done this recently myself.”

           “All clean! Daddy!!” Hamish came barreling into the room and without hesitation wrapped his small arms around both of their legs.

           Sherlock stared down at the cherubic face beaming up at them pure innocence and adoration before looking back at John.

           “No I suppose you haven’t.” Sherlock smiled.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SOOOOOOOO SORRY!!!!  
> I do have some valid reasons for taking forever, but I do apologize nonetheless for making you all lovely people wait for this. You guys are really awesome!  
> I really hope you enjoyed this! I worried over the ending for a while, wondering if perhaps it was a bit rushed. My lovely beta mafm read it and assured me that she thought it fit fine. I hope you all agree, but I won't be offended if you don't ;)  
> To apologize for the long absence, I gave you some fluff, some funny and some plot, and also like 1000 more words than usual. I'm trying to make the chapters longer which does mean that the next update might take longer (not a month but like maybe a week to a week and a half), otherwise I'll end up with a fic that's like 85 chapters long.....  
> Just a heads up: the next chapter the POV of our villains will return for some of the chapter, so...you know...prepare yourself. (although it's really 2 chapters from now that you should maybe be worried about...sorry....in advance....)


	28. Of Evidence Maps and Tiger Men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to my beta mafm who, even through her own stressful and sad week, was able to look over this and correct my appalling lack of commas (among other things) 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking around and waiting for me to finally post again. I am sorry for the long wait!
> 
> Also can I say, it's about a year since I started posting this and I NEVER thought that people would find it this interesting so thank you all. You guys are awesome for letting me indulge this little 'what if' of mine.

           

 

             John stretched carefully, so as not to wake Hamish. He opened his eyes only to find Hamish had gone. He heard a chair scrape across the floor downstairs followed by Hamish’s excited giggles.

            “What would you like for breakfast?” He heard Sherlock ask.

            John smiled and listened as Sherlock banged about. Last night he and Sherlock had stayed up late to talk over things. Sherlock had admitted that his last relationship was before he quit Uni and that the relationship hadn’t ended well at all. John had joked that it really couldn’t have been much worse than a secret assassin wife who got you kidnapped. Sherlock had laughed briefly before he told John the rest of the details. John had listened and tried to remain calm. The details Sherlock revealed were sad, and upsetting, and John understood why Sherlock had voluntarily remained alone afterwards. He was honored that the man was even willing to try a relationship again, to be honest. They had decided together to keep everything quiet for now, what with Sebastian still on the loose and Mary’s death still hanging over them, it seemed prudent to keep things to themselves.

            Sherlock had asked very hesitantly about Hamish, and how they should handle things with the little boy. John had thought back to the moment briefly.

 

            _They sat on the sofa drinking tea. Sherlock was pointedly not looking at John as he waited for the answer to his question. John sat forward and placed his hand on top of Sherlock’s, drawing the detective’s attention. Sherlock focused on their entwined hands, still avoiding John’s gaze._

_“Sherlock, we will be honest with him.” John smiled at Sherlock trying to reassure him._

_As Sherlock looked at him John could see that Sherlock was struggling with something. Finally Sherlock was able to form the words._

_“I am given to understand that many single parents wait to introduce a significant other so that the child does not get too attached in case of a break up.” Sherlock said slowly._

_John sat back slightly. So that was Sherlock’s concern. Sherlock was concerned about what would happen if they didn’t work out._

_“Sherlock, I believe it is a little too late to prevent him from becoming attached to you. Our interest in each other aside, I hope you are always present in Hamish’s life.” John smiled._

_“Why? I am of no relation. If Mycroft hadn’t interfered at the beginning he wouldn’t even be here.” Sherlock questioned, still confused._

_“But he did and here we are. Hamish loves you, Sherlock. I would not tamper with that, even if our feelings for each other faded.” John squeezed Sherlock’s hand._

_Sherlock’s eyes had gone wide as he processed John’s words._

 

            Sherlock had spent the rest of the night in a bit of a daze. John thought that it was a testament to Sherlock’s deep fondness, even love, of Hamish that the detective was so concerned about losing contact with the little boy.

He still couldn’t believe that Sherlock was interested in him. The man was brilliant beyond measure and undeniably attractive to boot. John was going to thank whatever god, magical being, or happy coincidence, that put Sherlock in his life. The man was interested in him despite his age, despite the fact that he was nowhere near the same level of attractiveness or intelligence, despite the fact that he had a kid. Sherlock was interested in him and not only that but loved his son. Mary hadn’t even been able to connect to Hamish the way Sherlock could. He chuckled as he heard Sherlock’s distant grumble and a few more pans being rattled about.

            Slowly he rolled out of bed and straightened up his appearance before heading downstairs to rescue Sherlock from breakfast duties. It was a good thing he did too, a few pancakes had already been sacrificed to the bin. Sherlock looked immensely relieved to see him and happily handed over the spatula.

            After breakfast was enjoyed by everyone, with even Sherlock managing to eat two pancakes, Sherlock disappeared into the sitting room with Hamish close behind as John patiently tidied up. He received a text and after he dried his hands he checked his mobile to find a message from Harry.

 

                        **Hey John, they switched me to an outpatient yesterday, can I come by and see Hamish?**

 

                        John smiled and replied:

           

                         _Congratulations. Of course! Come by whenever._

 

            Once the kitchen was tidied once more, John wandered to the sitting room to see what Sherlock and Hamish had got up to. He found them standing on the sofa sticking papers and photos to the wall in random jumbles that seemed to make some sort of sense to the two.

            “And what are we up to?” John asked causing both of them to turn around.

            “Sirlock’s making an evanince map!” Hamish proclaimed.

            “There’s a ‘d’ in there Hamish. Evidence.” Sherlock pronounced carefully.

            Hamish mumbled the word a few times to himself as if trying to cement the word into his mind, his brow adorably furrowed in concentration. Once the boy seemed to think he had the word mastered he turned and continued to tape things where he could reach them. John moved forward and scanned the wall. Sherlock had placed names and photos of four separate cases in a vertical line. Two of the cases he recognized, the case of the daughter being poisoned that Sherlock had told him about, and Ian Monkford’s disappearance. Adjacent to the Monkford papers sat pictures of the warehouse and what appeared to be Molly’s lab results on the powder found in John’s flat. Above that was Sebastian’s photo along with all of the evidence from John’s case.

            “So, want to walk me through it?” John asked, settling back on his heels to take in the whole wall. He suppressed a chuckle at the pleased look on Sherlock’s face and waited for the genius to explain. Sherlock stepped back from the couch to stand next to John and took a deep breath before launching into his explanation.

            “Right, these cases are all connected, all of them orchestrated by someone else.” Sherlock gestured to the four cases in a line. “In addition to the step-daughter poisoning case and Ian Monkford’s fake death I was able to determine while we were at the station yesterday that the same person helped to plan and accomplish these two crimes as well.”

            “So all of these people found someone to plan and help execute a murder, or a perceived murder?” John asked watching as Hamish continued to tape up some of his drawings where he could reach. The little boy seemed to be mimicking Sherlock’s pattern on the wall much to John’s amusement.

            “No not all of them were murders. One murder, one fake murder, one robbery and one trafficking antique goods.” Sherlock pointed to each case as he went. “This master planner helped two men, with Czech ties, rob four art galleries in London without being caught. He also helped orchestrate the entrance of several priceless Chinese artifacts into the country by way of a stock market trader and a journalist. He arranged Ian Monkford to be sent to Argentina in exchange for the uses of his warehouses and the step-father who poisoned his daughter planned on moving to Russia once his second daughter was behind bars. He seems to be making his way around the world, and to be showing off while doing so.”

            “And Moran?” John pointed at the section of the wall with the photos of his deceased friends.

            “He has clear ties to the Monkford case. The powder left at your flat was what brought us to Monkford’s pharmaceutical warehouse to begin with. I showed his picture to Monkford’s wife, she denied knowing him of course but her face gave her away.” Sherlock smirked.

            “Adam and Dan?” John asked quieter. At this Sherlock looked at him in sympathy.

            “I’m not sure if that case is connected or not yet. It seems curious that he has ties to one of the cases. Balance of probability is that he has a greater involvement.” Sherlock paused. “Lestrade is bringing in the step-father today so I can test my theory. As soon as he arrests the art thieves and smugglers they will be interrogated as well.”

            “Do they have something to go on with those cases?” John asked curiously.

            “They do now. I was able to shed some light on both and as long as Lestrade’s people don’t delay, the culprits should be in custody before the week is out.” Sherlock grinned.

            “Sirlock look!!” Hamish tugged on Sherlock’s pants.

            Both men look to Hamish’s creation. Hamish’s drawings mirrored Sherlock’s evidence in every way. Most of them seemed to be scribbles that only made sense to Hamish but there were a few that the little boy clearly depicted people.

            “Well done, Hamish. Would you like to take us through your evidence map as well?” Sherlock nodded at the little boy.

            “Uh-huh!!” Hamish stood on his tiptoes to point to the top picture. “It’s our flat!!! Sirlock’s thinking couch an Daddy’s chair!”

            John chuckled at Hamish’s descriptions and continued to watch as the little boy explained each picture. Hamish pointed out scribbles meant to be Greg and Mycroft in one frame while pointing to Mrs. Hudson and a plate of biscuits in another. The little boy had even included Harry; at least a vague blob shape that Hamish declared was her. He really didn’t understand most of the scribbles himself but he could determine without any doubt that the center picture was meant to depict Sherlock, Hamish and himself.

            “Very good Hamish, an excellent evidence map.” Sherlock announced when Hamish was finished causing the little boy to preen.

            “Evidence of what?” John whispered to Sherlock.

            “Evidence of love John. Obviously. “ Sherlock replied looking at him in exasperation.

            John, speechless for a moment, could only watch as Sherlock asked Hamish a few questions about his creation. The little boy proudly answered each one all while looking adoringly up at Sherlock. Sherlock was so focused on Hamish that he appeared to be entirely ignorant of his mobile alerting him to a message.

            “Sherlock I believe your mobile is demanding some attention.” John informed the detective.

            “Ah yes, It seems that Lestrade has arranged for the step-father to be brought in again.” Sherlock said with a thrill.

            “So you’re off to the station, then?” John asked as Sherlock energetically twirled on his jacket.

            “Are you not coming?” Sherlock paused in the middle of wrapping his scarf around his neck.

            “Yes!! Uncle Greg! Uncle Greg!” Hamish answered for him and ran to grab his little coat.

            “No, sorry bud, but you’re staying here too.” John said apologetically.

            Hamish turned and began to pout. To John’s great amusement Sherlock held an identical expression.

            “Harry’s been switched to an outpatient therapy and she asked if she could pop by to see Hamish.” John replied holding back a chuckle.

            Hamish looked slightly less put out at this explanation and slowly trudged back to the sofa.

            “Boring.” Sherlock scoffed. “Well, if you must.”

            “Yes Sherlock, we must. You have fun interrogating.” John smiled expecting Sherlock to turn and leave.

            Instead Sherlock turned toward Hamish and raised his eyebrows at the sullen little boy.

            “I believe the rule is one gets a hug when one is leaving?” Sherlock said hesitantly, as if he wasn’t quite sure he had gotten it correct.

            Hamish’s head snapped up comically and the little boy grinned widely. In no time at all he was scampering back to Sherlock’s side and all but catapulted himself into Sherlock’s arms. John resisted the urge to pull his mobile out and snap a photo of the two.

            Sherlock turned to look at John with raised eyebrows. John stood and stared back in confusion, unsure of what Sherlock was asking him.

            “Daddy, it’s the rules!!!!” Hamish clarified frowning at him. After a few moments of John still not responding the little boy impatiently waved him forward.

            The light clicked on then. John slowly walked over and stood by Sherlock. Hamish grabbed hold of him and pulled him in. It was a little awkward at first but when he looked up at Sherlock again and found Sherlock looking down at Hamish with such a tender expression John relaxed into the group hug. After a few minutes Hamish began to squirm between them causing both men to laugh.

            They released the little boy who scampered off to play. John caught Sherlock’s eyes and smiled warmly at him. Sherlock, who had yet to release John fully, squeezed his hand in reply before he turned to leave.

            Once Sherlock left, John sat to finish his tea and to contemplate how something terrible happening in your life can lead you to something so unique and amazing. He found he no longer wanted to curse Mary for getting Hamish and him kidnapped. In a very twisted way he kind of wanted to thank her.

 

 

 

 

            Sherlock stepped out onto the street and immediately noticed the sleek black sedan waiting directly in front of 221B. He narrowed his eyes and stood to stand in front of the window. After a few minutes the window rolled down revealing his brother.

            “No, Mycroft.” Sherlock scowled.

            “Just get in, Sherlock. I’ll take you to Scotland Yard.” Mycroft ordered calmly before switching his attention to a file in his lap.

            Sherlock looked around for a cab, instead. Whatever Mycroft wanted of him he desperately wanted to avoid. Unfortunately for him there seemed to be no cabs anywhere in sight.

            “One could stand all day waiting for a cab, brother mine.” Mycroft commented still focused on his dossier.

            “Did you purposely arrange for there to be no taxis in the vicinity?” Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his brother.

            “Get in the car, Sherlock.” Mycroft ordered again.

            He huffed in defeat before angrily opening the door and sliding in. Once he slammed the door rather violently the car sped off.

            “I don’t have time for any of your cases Mycroft. I’m busy.” Sherlock sneered.

            “I am aware of that, Sherlock.” Mycroft replied closing his file and fixing him with a knowing stare.

            “Then what do I owe the pleasure of this ride to?” Sherlock asked petulantly.

            “I have observed that you and Dr. Watson seemed to have acknowledged your feelings for one another.” Mycroft stated.

            “Wonderful, am I about to receive unwanted advice telling me that now is not the time? That I should leave John in peace and not further complicate the man’s life? Or are you going to take the other route and tell me something dark and secretive about his past? That I should stop this now before I’m in too far?” Sherlock mocked.

            “How telling of you, brother.” Mycroft smiled sadly at him. “Incidentally, I am going to do none of the above.”

            Sherlock waited. Mycroft would never just bring up a subject for no purpose.

            “I merely wanted to offer my heartfelt congratulations.” Mycroft announced causing Sherlock to choke in shock.

            “What the hell does that mean?” Sherlock asked in confusion

            “Exactly what I said, brother mine. I meant what I said at the zoo. He is a good man.” Mycroft paused. “He is not Victor.”

            Sherlock immediately swallowed his next retort. Victor. His brother always did know his greatest fears, no matter how he tried to hide them.

            Sherlock had told John last night of Victor. John seemed angry after he was finished, not at him though thankfully.

 

            _“I doubt it can be much worse than a secret assassin wife who got you kidnapped Sherlock.” John joked._

_Sherlock laughed. John had a point, neither one of their past relationships had ended particularly well. Still John needed to know, he deserved to know._

_“I was in my first year at Uni. Victor and I were assigned as chemistry partners. We ended up becoming great friends throughout the semester much to my confusion. I wasn’t used to people just accepting me and Victor was well-liked, he didn’t need me as a friend.” Sherlock explained. “The next year we roomed together. He came back one night after a party, thoroughly wasted and as I was helping him to bed he confessed that he was in love with me. The next morning I asked him about it, unwilling to reveal my own feelings until I was sure. He was embarrassed but didn’t deny it. From then on our relationship grew. We kept it a secret from most everyone, Victor’s dad was very influential and he wanted to formally introduce me to him instead of his father finding out accidently. So we waited until a break came and Victor took me home with him.”  
            “Didn’t go well?” John guessed. _

_“No. Victor Senior was livid. I was unaware that Victor had not come out to his parents. Victor had been so sure that everything was going to be fine. His father lit into him, verbally and physically. He was adamant that no son of his was going to be gay and that this had better be a joke. Victor pleaded with him at first, to understand. That was when his father began to shout obscenities at me. He never raised a hand to me, he knew who Mycroft was and even then Mycroft had a bit of a reputation, but it was close. Victor looked at me briefly, I’ll never forget that look, sadness, regret and resignation. He joined in with his father and began shouting at me to leave. That he wasn’t a faggot and was just playing a joke on the school freak. I ran. Mycroft picked me up ten miles from their house. I was in such a daze I didn’t even remember to insult him. When I got back to school Victor had moved out of our room. He spread some story around about how I had professed this undying love to him and then stalked him over the break and everything got worse from there. I dropped out before the year was finished and fled to the streets, out of Mycroft’s reaches. That is how I met my first dealer.”_

_Sherlock looked up at John his confession over. John looked livid._

 

            “I know he’s not Victor.” Sherlock sputtered.

            “John disowned his own parents when they kicked his sister out for being gay.” Mycroft calmly informed him. “To this day he refuses to see them.”

            “Your information is incorrect brother, Hamish has mentioned his grandfather before, said he was named after him.” Sherlock corrected remembering how the little boy had babbled about his granddad one day.

            “Hamish Ewan Watson. John’s uncle.” Mycroft paused and seemed to delight in his surprise. “The only family member to accept Harry, the only family member they both kept in touch with. John seems to have taken after the man, he was a doctor as well. He even unofficially made the man Hamish’s grandfather it seems.”

            “What is your point Mycroft?” Sherlock growled.

            “That he is not Victor, too afraid to stand up for those he loves.” Mycroft paused. “And that you deserve someone like that brother dear.”

            Sherlock remained silent, at a loss at what to say to this. Greg had really changed his brother. Mycroft had always cared in his own overbearing way. The Mycroft of old however, would have a heart attack at this new sentimental version of himself.

            The car stopped suddenly surprising him. He looked out to see New Scotland Yard. With one last scowl at his brother Sherlock opened the door, eager to leave his brother’s perceptive stare.

            “Inform Gregory that I anticipate being home seventeen minutes late and that I do apologize.” Mycroft called to him before the car speed off.

            Sherlock glared after his brother and into the three CCTV cameras he passed as he made his way into Lestrade’s office.

 

 

 

            John looked up at a hesitant knock at the door. He carefully marked his place in the crime novel he was reading before heading to the door. He opened the door quickly, eager to see Harry, only to be entirely surprised by Molly at the top of the stairs. Ben shot past her and quickly found Hamish where he was occupied racing his cars about on the floor. John turned back to Molly in amusement, this time noticing a man standing behind her.

            “Hello John!” Molly said cheerily.

            “Molly, to what do we owe the pleasure?” John asked waving her in.

            “John this is Jim, my boyfriend.” Molly introduced them.

            “Pleasure.” John shook the man’s hand. Jim was slightly taller than himself with jet-black hair and a very slender build. He wore slim fitting jeans and a V-neck t-shirt. Had he seen the man on the street John would not have pegged him as a straight man but it seems as if his gaydar was overruled. “How did you two meet then?”

            “I work in IT at Bart’s. I met her in the cafeteria one day.” Jim explained charmingly.

            “Well that’s great. Molly, you didn’t tell me you had met someone.” John smiled at his friend who blushed.

            “Well, I only just worked up the courage to ask her out last week.” Jim explained nervously.

            John raised his eyebrows at Molly. That was awfully fast to be officially dating, though Molly did always tend to jump into things a bit too fast, even when the men weren’t overly charming like this one was.

            “Anyway, Ben is with me again today, as you can see, and Jim here offered to take us out to lunch. We came by to see if you and Sherlock wanted to join us.” Molly explained before glancing at Hamish. “Jim thought Ben might like to have a friend with him.”

            “Well that is very generous of you.” John smiled at him.

            “Friends are important to have and Ben here has told me all about his friend Hamish.” Jim returned with a glance at the two boys.

            The boys had switched their attention to the adults’ conversation, aware that they were being discussed. Hamish seemed to be considering Jim intently.

            “I am afraid today we have plans. My sister is stopping by in a bit and Sherlock has run off to confer on a case.” John explained apologetically.

            “Perhaps next time then.” Jim suggested with a small smile that for some reason made John uneasy.

            “Come along Ben.” Molly called. “We’ll have to make plans for another day.”

            Ben sighed and got up from his place beside Hamish. Hamish waved goodbye before turning his gaze back to Jim. John couldn’t tell what Hamish thought of the man, which was unusual. Usually John could guess Hamish’s feelings on a person.

            Molly ruffled Ben’s hair in consolation and steered him towards the door. Jim nodded to John, his gaze lingering to the wall filled with evidence behind him. John wished he could go with them, if nothing else to get to know Jim more. Molly deserved someone truly amazing and unfortunately had a history of poor choices in men. They had all been so engrossed in their conversation that none of them had heard the footsteps on the stairs until to late.

            “Oh John! I didn’t know you were going to have company!” Harry exclaimed after she walked through the doorway catching herself right before she collided with Molly.

            “We were just leaving. Have a good day, John!! Bye, Hamish!” Molly smiled before heading down the stairs with Ben and Jim.

            Harry moved past him to scoop Hamish up and smother him in kisses. John smiled and closed the door to the flat. He would worry over Molly’s life choices later.

 

 

            Jim smiled at Molly and said his goodbyes as she walked up to her flat with Ben. Once she was out of sight he dropped the act that he had been holding up all day and quickly made his way to a side street where he had a car waiting.

            Lunch had been long and very tedious. Still the outing had been worth it. John had been very interesting to observe up close. The man clearly didn’t know what to make of him. John obviously didn’t trust him fully but he also wasn’t perceptive enough to see through his disguise.

            Jim had gotten a deep satisfaction at seeing Sherlock’s investigations into his masterpieces all over the flat’s wall. Sherlock was woefully behind in some of his information. The game was still interesting despite that fact; Sherlock’s concern for the good Doctor and his son ensured that.

            Jim grinned as he began to plot his next move. It was time to send Sherlock a clear message.

 

 

           

 

            “Daddy?” Hamish asked him as he crawled into his lap.

            Harry had left about three hours ago for a group meeting leaving John and Hamish alone once again. At the moment the two were cuddled up on the sofa as one of Hamish’s favorite movies played in the background.

            “Yes, Hamish?” John replied hugging the little boy close.

            “Why is that man on the wall??” Hamish asked tilting his head to the side innocently.

            “Which man?” John asked, idly checking his mobile for any messages from Sherlock. He had texted the man about dinner twenty minutes ago and had yet to receive a reply.

            “The one with the tiger on his arm.” Hamish replied as he played innocently with John’s collar. John tensed in realization.

            “Hamish do you mean that man?” John turned and pointed at Moran’s picture.

            “Uh-huh. The tiger man.” Hamish confirmed bouncing about in his lap.

            “Hamish how do you know the tiger man?” John asked much calmer than he felt. His hand gripped the mobile tightly.

            “He’s the one that took me from the bad men. He was really angry. I didn’t like him but he took me to Sirlock so I guess that’s ok.” Hamish explained matter-of-factly.

            John’s breath caught in shock.

            “Daddy?” Hamish asked again impatiently. “Why is he there?”

            “Just a minute Hamish.” John stalled as he hurriedly pressed Sherlock’s number and waited for the detective to pick up.

 

 _“John I’m on my way now. I picked up some take away so you can stop worrying about dinner.”_ Sherlock grumbled.

            “Sherlock, Hamish recognizes Moran. If I understand what he said correctly, Moran was the one to deposit him at the police station.” John explained still slightly in a daze.

 

 _“I’ll be there in two minutes.”_ Sherlock answered urgently before hanging up.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok yea I know. I'm awful to make you all wait so long when I said I wasn't going to do it again. To be fair though I did loose my job because my the company I was working for lost out on the contract that provided me my job. 
> 
> Turns out for the best though as I've decided to make a large career change... which is scary.... 
> 
> On top of ^ that Sherlock and John really didn't not want to cooperate with what I originally had in mind for this. This is not at all what was originally going to be written but both of them seemed determined that certain things needed to be addressed before drama happens so here we are. I think I wrote and re-wrote the beginning about 4 or 5 times before I felt it decent enough to send to mafm for checking. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this, it is about twice as long as one my usual chapters which I hope makes up for my lack of updating. I hesitate to make any sort of projections about when I'll update next, I mean I don't plan on it taking so long again but I didn't plan it last time either so...you know... I'm thinking this will probably reach an end somewhere in the 40 - 45 chapter range, maybe less. But I do plan on adding one shots in a separate linked fic about John, Sherlock and Hamish as they come to me. If you would like to suggest an idea for one or prompt something you want to see happen with these three you are welcome to start thinking on it. 
> 
> You can find me here :  [tumblr](http://faroreaswind.tumblr.com) if you want to chat or ask why I'm taking forever to update. I also post updates about delays in writing or updating sometimes.


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